Say You Love Me
by Lola Little
Summary: AU Lord Snape gets more than he bargained for when he stops to repair his carriage at the Dursley estate. Deaf and horribly abused, Harry Potter has lived a nightmarish life. Can Severus help the boy and still manage to keep his desires in check? SSHP
1. Chapter 1

Author's note—In this story, Severus is married to a FOC, but don't let that scare you off. This story is all slash! Also this story was under another name on TSS-- I am Sora...so no, this isn't stolen.

Say You Love Me

Chapter 1: The Ward

Lord Severus Snape frowned as his carriage rocked beneath him and then came to a halt. He was in no mood for this sort of thing today—nor any day, as a matter of fact. Muttering to himself, he opened the door and glared at his driver-cum-stable master.

"Looks like we've got a cracked axel, mi'lord," Hagrid explained. "Won't make it the whole way back ta Spinner's End like tha'."

Severus sneered at the simpleton. He spotted a cozy looking farm manor just below the hill. "Could we make it to that farm?" Though structured like a question, his tone made it entirely clear that it was a command.

"Should be able ta make it."

Pulling himself up to the driver's seat, Severus removed his jacket. He had no intentions of being inside the carriage if the blasted thing did indeed overturn. "I do not mean to spend my entire day here," he said flatly.

"Right, mi'lord." Hagrid pulled himself up beside him.

The ride to the farm was painfully slow, and made even more unbearable by the giant man's constant chattering to the horses. If the man were not such a marvel with animals, Severus would have sacked him years ago. Even as thick as Hagrid was, he did his job admirably, and Severus was a man who respected competence—demanded it.

Finally, the carriage pulled up to the farm. Severus noted that the manor was well kept. The three-story home was fitting of a gentleman farmer, and the rose gardens out front were impeccably groomed. A short, rat-like man came out of the stable to greet them as they stopped.

"'Lo, mi'lord, what brings you here today?" he asked eying the signet ring on Severus' finger hungrily.

"My carriage has a cracked axel, and I was hoping that I could find some assistance here," he replied coldly.

"Aye, let me ask the master." The little man disappeared into the house leaving Hagrid and Severus alone.

"There be somethin' abou' tha' one tha' don't sit well," Hagrid murmured.

Severus nodded his agreement.

Not long after the man had left, he returned in the wake of another man—this one nearly as wide as he was tall with no neck and fine clothes. The newcomer bowed nervously. "My lord, you are welcome to whatever you require while you are in my humble home," he said with a twitching mustache. "I am Vernon Dursely."

Severus gave a curt nod to the farmer. Dursley. The name was oddly familiar, but he could not say why. Hmm, perhaps it was from some bit of scandal that Victoria had prattled on about. No matter… "I thank you for hospitality, Mr. Dursley. My man will see to the repairs if you but give him leave to use your tools."

"Why of course!" Dursley snapped his fingers. "Peter, show him to the stable and help him."

Peter raised a brow. "But what of…"

"It can wait!" Dursley interrupted.

"But he ain't been…"

"I said it can wait!"

Severus sat in silence through the odd exchange, but made note of it. He would not be stopping here in the future. He would rather walk to Spinner's End.

Dursley made a show of straightening his cravat. "My lord, would you care for some tea? My wife was just fixing it when you arrived."

In truth, Severus being eaten alive by the dogs sounded much more appealing, but he was resigned to his fate for the day. "Thank you."

The formal parlor of Dursley's home was elegantly appointed. He could only assume that the man did well for himself. The settee beneath him was an expensive piece on its own, and was by no means alone in that regard. He doubted even Victoria could find fault with the room's appearance. To him, decorating was a wasted investment. The only furniture he gave a whit about was the desk and comfortable armchair in his study at home.

"My lord, I would like you to meet my wife, Petunia."

Dursley's wife was not nearly as pleasing to the eye as the parlor. She was a gawky looking thing with a gaunt face and hard eyes. Though she curtsied passably, she would never be considered quality. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord."

Tea was a horrid affair. He was sure that his _darling_ Victoria would be scandalized by how poorly Mrs. Dursley preformed the ritual. Severus was glad that he took neither sugar nor cream in his tea, because he was unsure he could bear listening to the spoon scrape at the bottom of the cup once more. The conversation was even decidedly less appealing than Mrs. Dursley's skills as a hostess. Severus found both husband and wife to be abhorrently ignorant.

He was never so glad to see Hagrid as he was at the moment he entered the parlor. "Mi'lord, we be good ter go when yer ready."

Severus had to control the urge to run from the room. "I do apologize for my hasty departure, but I would like to make Spinner's End by eventide."

"Spinner's End?" Dursley inquired.

"Yes, I have come to my ancestral home to conduct my research." Severus considered that the end of the topic, and retrieved his hat.

Unfortunately, Dursley followed him out. "What kind of research?"

"Botany."

"Like with plants? My mother, god rest her soul, always said science was the way of the devil. It's not proper she said," Dursley told him with a sneer.

Severus' own mother had held the same kind of dissent for her son's academic bent, and he was as uncaring about propriety today as he was then. He snorted. "I believe the devil best uses ignorant fools. If you will excuse me, I would like a word with my man."

Dursley stared slack jawed after him, but did not follow.

Hagrid did not appear to be enjoying his time on the Dursley estate either. "Mi'lord there be somethin' mighty strange here. I kept hearin' sounds comin' from the end stall, but t'weren't like nothin' from a horse. I tried ta get a look meself, but t'was all locked up, and tha' rat o' a man say it weren't me business."

Severus nodded. "It isn't our business."

As if to contradict Severus' statement, a loud moan followed by a bang greeted him near the stable entrance. The banging noise didn't stop. Damning whatever fate had brought him to this place, Severus walked toward the end stall.

"My lord," Dursley called after him, "there is nothing inside there but and old nag to be put down."

"Really? I could have sworn horses did not sound so very human. Open the stall. I want to this animal that can do such wondrous things," he commanded.

"Now, there is no reason for you to be giving orders on my property!"

"Mr. Dursley, you will open this door now or you will open it before the magistrate!"

Dursely backed down, and nodded for Peter to unlock the door.

At first, Severus saw nothing through the darkness. He was forced to turn his head from the terrible stench wafting from the stall. Slowly, his eyes became used to the darkness, and he could make out what appeared to be nothing more than a heap of dirty rags. The pile began to move and shift revealing a gaunt, pale face and two bright green eyes staring at him with unabashed fear. Though he could not determine the child's sex, he judged that this poor creature could be no more than twelve or thirteen. The child gasped as Severus moved closer pulling tighter into a ball and using shackled hands for protection. Severus took in every detail of this sad display. He never wanted to forget a single thing. For each atrocity, he would make Vernon Dursley pay.

"You will explain this," Severus said with a glacial tone. The look in his endless black eyes would have cowered a strong man.

Vernon Dursley was not a strong man. He trembled violently, and backed away. "He's my nephew. I only did it to stop him from hurting himself or anyone else. You don't know what kind of a freak that boy is. I was only protecting him."

"What is his name?"

"Harry. His name is Harry, my lord." Dursley calmed. He seemed to think that he had brought Severus to his way of thinking. The fool became a bit bolder. "Now you see why we keep him locked up. We can't have him out and tormenting decent folk."

"No, of course not," Severus said with an unearthly kind of patience. Along the stable door, Hagrid had to hide his wince; the stable master knew what fury was bound erupt. "In that case, why haven't you taken him to a proper asylum to be cared for?"

"You know how much those blasted things cost! And besides, having that freak in the family could ruin my family's reputation. My son is going to be a barrister one day, and I can't have people judging him by what that one does. I knew you would understand, my lord. You are after all a practical man." Dursley smiled.

"I am a practical man," Severus agreed. "You, however, a sad excuse for humanity. There is absolutely no reason for the type of cruelty that you have shown this child. I daresay that if he was not disturbed before, that he probably is now. I would not have a stray dog on my property treated thus. I would expect a visit from the magistrate very soon. I highly recommend that you learn some sort of remorse for what you have done. If it were my decision, I would see you drawn and quartered for this. Do not think for an instant that you have seen the last of me!"

Dursley's face turned from a ruddy purple to a deathly white as he sputtered.

"The boy is coming with me," Severus stated as he dropped to his knee before the stall. "Harry, it's alright. I won't hurt you. Come out of there."

The boy flinched and scrambled to avoid the blows that he was expecting. A pathetic whimper passed through his lips. His trust would not be so easily won. Severus imagined that the argument he had just witnessed didn't help matters. Severus sighed heavily. "Hagrid, you try," he commanded.

A glare sent Dursley and his man out of the stable as the burly man stepped toward the stall. Severus watched from a safe distance. Hagrid squatted down on the ground and moved slowly, almost as he did when he was working with a skittish animal. "Lo' there, Harry," Hagrid greeted softly. "This fine laird here and me ha'e come ta take yer out o' here. Does tha' sound like a good idea to ye?"

The boy lifted his head slowly, and looked at Hagrid. Though he didn't make any move toward the door nor any sign that he understood, he did seem to be focused on Hagid. The stable master continued: "Ya know, Harry, we ain' gonna hurt ye, and we won't let yer uncle hurt ye neither. C'mon now, lad," Hagrid coaxed. His big hands motioned toward the door gently. "C'mon, t'ain't a thing ta it. One foot and then t'other. Ye can do it."

Hagrid began to back out of the stall inch by inch. Miraculously, the boy shrugged off the old burlap tarp he had round his shoulders and began to push himself up. Severus grimaced as he heard the heavy clanking of chains. Harry took a few steps toward Hagird, but promptly fell flat on his face. The boy shot a mournful look to the manacles on his feet and the heavy bolt that held him tight to the floor.

"Now, tha's a problem," Hagrid muttered. He grabbed a large hammer from the wall, and made his way back to the stall.

This time, Harry let out a cry and balled up once more. His eyes were locked on the tool with horror. My god, Severus thought, what have they done to this child? He knelt down and pulled the boy into his lap. "Just hurry up and get that bloody chain broken. The locksmith will have to deal with the rest of them."

Hagrid nodded. With the first mighty swing, the chain link was almost broken. Harry seemed to realize that he was not in danger, and burrowed into Severus lap for the remainder of the ordeal.

Severus helped Harry stand, and for the first time, he looked at the man holding him without fear. He allowed Severus to lead him to the edge of the stable, but he stopped dead in his tracks at the doorway. Harry shook his head adamantly and made some indiscernible noise. He pointed to the Dursleys' home as he backed away.

By nature, Severus was not a patient man. It had taken the better part of three hours to get the boy this far. He had to force away the desire to carry the boy to carriage whether he liked it or not. Luckily, Hagrid stepped in once more. The burly man pointed to the carriage. "Tha's where we be goin'. Ye won't have ta worry abou' tha' lot anymore. Yer comin' home with us. C'mon, lad, it's naught but a wee carriage ride," Hagrid soothed. He went over and patted one of the horses on the neck. "These beasties are waitin' fer ye."

The lure of the fine steeds seemed to do the trick. Harry squinted at first, unaccustomed to the light of day. Still dragging the remnants of his leg irons behind, he made a shaky trip to Hagrid's side. He lifted his hands toward the horse questioningly. At Hagrid's nod, he gently touched the horse's mane. The boy's eyes were large with a kind of simple joy.

"Ah, ye've got a way with beasts, lad. There's eleven horses as fine as these at Spinner's End. Would ye like to see 'em?"

Harry gave no notice to Hagrid, but instead kept petting the animal. Well, at least he is out of the damned stable, Severus mused. Severus put a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Instantly, those two large, green eyes met his. "It's time to go," Severus told him attempting to keep his tones soft. Even to his own ears, he failed miserably, yet the boy allowed himself to be taken from the horse.

The inside of the carriage was also a wonder to Harry. He looked around at the velvet lined vehicle as though he'd never been inside of one before. Looking down at his dirty fingers, he made an obvious effort to touch nothing though his eyes devoured every line and colour. When the carriage lurched forward, Harry gasped slightly. Severus opened the window curtain for Harry, and watched with an amused smile as the boy stared out at a world he had been locked away from for god only knew how long.

There was no doubt—Severus would get to the bottom of this, and when he did, Vernon Dursley and his hideous wife would wish that they had never been born. Forgiveness was not among Lord Severus Snape's list of virtues. Whether by the law or by the slow ruination of all they held dear, Severus would get revenge for the small boy they had tortured so.


	2. Chapter 2

Big thanks to Kirby for being my beta!

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, and anyone else with legitimate rights. No profit is being made by this site or the authors it houses, nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form.

Chapter 2: Trust

Harry had fallen asleep not long after they left the Dursley's farm. He fought valiantly at keeping his eyes open, but in the end exhaustion won over. Severus pulled the boy across the seat to keep him from lolling around with the motion of the carriage. Though his face was caked with dirt, Severus saw that Harry had a kind of maturity about his visage that he had not noticed earlier. It made him wonder if his estimation of Harry's age had been correct. He could only guess that perhaps malnutrition played into Harry's small stature. Still sound asleep, the boy had clutched at Severus' clothing and let out only the tiniest sigh of contentment. For one brief moment, Severus felt a pang of compassion. The emotion was quite foreign, and he immediately dismissed it. He did not need this kind of complication in his life.

The carriage's arrival at Spinner's End saw more activity than the place had seen in ages. Severus near burst from the carriage and began shouting orders to every stable boy, gardener, and maid in sight. Servants were running around like mad to do their master's bidding. The three hardiest boys each mounted up and raced to find the magistrate, the doctor, and the locksmith. Maids scurried to prepare a room and a hot meal. It was yet to be revealed exactly what had caused this ruckus, and not one of them dared to ask. Lord Snape was not known for this kind heart.

The lord's aged housekeeper, Mrs. Figg was quite bemused by the time she made it into the fray. She held her hand to her heart as watched the spectacle before her "My lord, what is going on?" she cried.

Severus' coal black eyes paused on the woman for only the briefest second. "Hagrid, take him inside and see if he will eat."

Mrs. Figg watched as the stable master lifted a bundle from the vehicle. "My lord, who is that boy?"

"I mean to find out," Severus muttered. "Mrs. Figg, I want you to oversee the preparations in the East wing. I have a feeling the boy will be staying with us for quite some time. If any of the staff are caught gossiping, they are to be dismissed at once with no references, do I make myself clear?"

"Why yes, my lord," she replied breathlessly.

Severus stormed up to the house with a look that would have sent Roman gladiators running for cover.

As Severus climbed the stairs, he could hear Hagrid's deep voice through the walls. "Now, lad, yer still safe. This is the lord's home."

Severus opened the door to find Harry huddled in the corner of the room. Immediately, Harry's eyes flicked to Severus' face, as if he were expecting him to protect him from this new prison. A change came over him, as it had in the stable: Harry trusted Severus. The revelation was a bit jarring, but not wholly unwelcome.

"Mi'lord, he woke up wi' a nasty start," Hagrid explained.

"Wouldn't you?" Severus muttered absently. His eyes were on the boy. Harry cocked his head at angle as he sat up. The bright green gaze staring back at him was so intent that it was hard to believe the child did not understand, yet… _No_, he thought sternly, _the boy is as dim as a toddler._

A knock at the door put an end to Severus' musings. "Enter," he commanded roughly.

Mrs. Figg came into the room with a tray of stew and hearty bread for the boy. The elderly woman gave Harry a kind smile. "Hello, dear," she greeted him in a soft voice. "You must be hungry. I'm Mrs. Figg."

Harry eyed the tray, but backed away from Mrs. Figg. The hunger in his face was quite plain and so was the fear.

"Oh now, dearie, there's no need to be shy," she coaxed as she set the tray on the bedside table. "Go on. You can eat as much as you'd like."

Harry still made no move toward the tray.

"A word, Mrs. Figg," Severus said firmly as he motioned to the door.

Outside, Mrs. Figg let out a shuddering breath. "Where did you find that sad child?"

"He was locked away in his uncle's stable. Dursley seemed to think that Harry was a danger to himself and to others, and that abusing the boy would help matters. As far as I can tell, the boy does not speak at all and is quite simpleminded," Severus told her.

The tiny woman straightened herself angrily. "Were I a man, I would teach that monster a lesson!"

A frightening look crossed Severus' features. "I assure you, Mrs. Figg, I intend to do just that."

Mrs. Figg clucked her tongue sadly. "That poor thing! What a horrible life he must have led ere now! Well, we'll set it right."

When they returned, Harry was still in the corner staring at the tray. Hagrid's luck with the boy had run out it seemed. This new environment was too much for the boy.

"My lord, I had the cook prepare some stew for you as well. Perhaps you and Hagrid would care to have something to eat yourselves?" Mrs. Figg suggested sweetly.

Severus raised a black brow at her boldness, but did not disagree. It had been years since—not since he was a boy—his housekeeper had taken control as she did that night. He had forgotten how forthright she could be. In fact, it had been many years since anyone had taken charge like that in his home; but, in this case, he was not altogether upset by it. Severus nodded and took his leave.

In his study, Severus took on the look of a caged lion. He moved swiftly as he paced the floor before the fire. The stew Mrs. Figg had offered went untouched. His appetite was sorely lacking after the day's events. However, that did not mean he was not willing to indulge in a bit of brandy. He poured the liquid with a liberal touch without a thought to the headache it would bring him come the morrow.

"My lord?" a young footman called from the doorway.

"What is it?" Severus snapped before downing the last of the brandy.

"The locksmith and the doctor have both arrived."

"And the magistrate?" he demanded.

"No word yet, mi'lord," the footman replied nervously. This particular young man had received several tongue-lashings and did not relish the thought of another. "I am sure he will be here soon."

Severus stormed past the footman on his way to meet the locksmith and doctor. He had known Dr. Lupin for sometime. If there had been another physician within the area, Severus would have sent for him instead. Lupin was not among the lord's favorite people. The pair shared a somewhat dubious history that had ended poorly. The locksmith, Mr. Moody, however, he did not know. He had seen the frightful man in the village once or twice, but had never needed the services he offered. Both men seemed anxious to see what was so important that they had been called out at such a late hour.

"I was told that there was a matter of some urgency," the physician prompted.

"Yes," Severus answered curtly. "I will ask both of you to keep this matter quiet."

The men nodded, and listened with rapt attention as Severus told the tale once more. By the time he finished, Lupin's face was a deathly pale. "Where is the boy?"

"Upstairs in one of the guest rooms. My housekeeper is trying to get him to eat something."

The locksmith took a deep breath. "Will the lad let me near enough to him?"

That did pose an interesting problem. At the moment, he was unsure if Harry would hurt himself trying to get away. "I don't know. He hasn't let anyone near him since we arrived here," Severus explained wearily. He wasn't looking forward to holding the boy down.

Lupin pulled a bottle from his bag. "Normally, I don't agree with such things, but if your housekeeper can get Harry to drink this, the laudanum would keep him out cold for a while."

Mrs. Figg did not seem to like the idea of drugging the boy, but she relented after only a few moments and did her part. The three men waited until she opened the door to enter. Moody made quick work of the shackles. As he worked, Severus could see similar emotions playing across his face as what he had felt when he'd first seen Harry. The man muttered all manners of curses under his breath as the last chain fell revealing the raw and near blacked flesh beneath the iron. Severus was thankful that Mrs. Figg had left the room for this.

"Only a beast could do such a thing," Lupin said softly. He began to lay out several items from his bag onto the side table. "My lord, would you have some one send for some hot water and brandy?"

Severus gave a curt nod. In the hall, he turned toward the old locksmith. "How much for your services?"

"Nothin'," Moody demurred. "That boy in there deserved to be free. I'll not take payment for such."

"I'll not argue. Again, I must ask for your complete silence until this matter is taken care of." Severus stared hard at Moody. Somehow, he knew the man would keep his tongue.

"And what will you do with the lad afterward?" he asked seriously.

Severus stopped dead in his tracks. In truth, he had given little thought to it. What would he do with Harry? Spinner's End was no hospital. He couldn't very well have the boy underfoot, but then he couldn't have the boy locked away once again. He shook his head. "I don't know quite yet."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Moody said thoughtfully as he grabbed his coat.

As Moody took his leave, a flushed young groom scurried in. He bowed awkwardly. "Mi'lord, the magistrate weren't home. His housekeeper told me that he went on a holiday to Bath, and that she don't expect him back before the end of the week."

Severus let out a growl. "It would be a shame if Fudge actually did his job for a change. You are dismissed."

It seemed hours passed while Severus waited for Lupin to descend from Harry's room. Though he appeared calm, the servants knew better than to disturb their master in any way. Between the physician above and the missing magistrate, the lord was in a foul humor. The clock stuck midnight before Lupin emerged from Harry's room. He looked—if it were possible—more haggard than he had when he'd gone in.

"Well?" Severus demanded.

Lupin lowered his eyes. "I'm surprised he's lived as long as he has. The proof of what was done to him is written all over his body. He is severely malnourished and his entire body is covered in bruises. The irons nearly tore the flesh from his wrists and ankles. Thankfully, there is no sign of infection. There are also scars from what I can only guess were horrific floggings. I can't imagine the life that young man has lived."

Severus' jaw clenched in fury. The blood in his veins had turned cold, and he contemplated going back to the Dursley's to beat Vernon to a pulp that instant. He could not even fathom the type of derangement that would cause a man to torture an innocent child in such a way. Whatever the boy's shortcomings, no one deserved that kind of pain. Severus pictured the fear in those green eyes, and now he truly understood it. What he did not understand was how easily Harry seemed to come to him. The boy's feeble-mindedness must be to blame, for no one in his right mind could trust so easily after a life that harsh.

"Is Harry still sleeping?" the lord asked quietly.

"Soundly," Lupin replied. "I gave him a rather heavy dose of laudanum. He needs his rest." The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "My lord, if you would allow me, I would be willing to care for the boy."

"Harry stays here." The finality in those words surprised even Severus, yet he could not deny the truth behind them.

Lupin nodded. "I knew you would do the right thing."

Severus cocked a brow. Yes, Remus would know him well enough to assume such a thing. They had been lovers briefly when they were younger. Severus had met the ambitious young physician at Oxford, and respected his intelligence. Though both men had experimented sexually, neither was expecting an affair to blossom between them. In the end, it was over quickly. Remus left him for another—some unknown lover—and they both moved on. It irked Severus to no end that Lupin could still seem to know him so well.

"Will he recover?" Severus asked pushing away the memories.

"I cannot be sure. From what I can tell, Harry has been abused for years. It's hard to say just how much he will be able to heal." Lupin shrugged sadly. "I wish I could give you an answer."

Severus nodded. "It's late. I had the maids prepare a guest room for you. Perhaps in the morning we can discuss Harry's care more."

"Of course, my lord."

When the entire house had gone dark, Severus crept up to Harry's room. He held a single candle in his grasp and moved softly down the hall. From the doorway, he saw that Harry slept in a ball beneath the covers. His face was cleaner now and Severus could see the delicate features that were once hidden beneath the grime. Harry had the look of a woodland sprite. There was something eternaly pure about him. With a sigh, the boy rolled over and cracked his eyes open. Instantly, Severus felt guilty for disturbing him, but Harry only looked at him. He smiled at Severus before promptly falling back into his slumber.

_In the morning we will see what you have for us, boy, _Severus vowed silently.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Clean and Proper

Dawn came too quickly by Severus' estimation. He had only managed to fall into a half-sleep in his favorite chair. The early morning flux of activity in the downstairs alerted him to the oncoming day, and he was none too willing to greet it. Severus kept no valet. He changed from his rumpled travel attire and into clean garments. After a quick toilette, Severus emerged from his chambers and silently went downstairs. He was determined to keep at least some semblance of normalcy to his life. All that went out the window the moment he saw his stable master in the foyer.

Seeing Hagrid within the walls of his home was an odd sight—one that he would have balked at on a normal day. The stable master looked ill at ease in the foyer with his rough hands twiddling about nervously. Hagrid made a hasty bow of his head. "Good morning, mi'lord. I was jus wonderin' how Harry was doin'?"

"As well as can be expected," Severus told him plainly.

"Would ye mind…I mean would it be alright if I gave the boy somethin'?" Hagrid asked pulling a lopsided, stuffed bear from this pocket.

Severus eyed the ragged thing skeptically. He briefly considered banishing the giant and his bear to stables, but decided against it. "Later. Dr. Lupin and I have much to discuss about Harry." As far as Severus was concerned the matter was ended, and he turned on his heel. A thought struck him. "Hagrid," he said over his shoulder, "have Hades saddled for me after tea."

"Aye, mi'lord."

If the lord believed that Hagrid would be the only member of his house acting strangely, he was sorely mistaken. It was as if a spell had been cast on Spinner's End and all the staff had gone mad from it. On his way to dining room, Severus first noticed the scurrying maids. One young girl was peering behind the curtains. He sneered at the display. Somehow, he knew he was not going to like this one bit.

"What the devil are you doing, girl?" he snapped.

The young woman whipped about and pressed herself to the wall. Horror crept into her eyes. No doubt, she wished to melt into the wall at her back. "My lord, I…I…" she stammered pitifully beneath his scorching glare.

Just when his patience was run thin, a voice saved the child. "Have you found him?" Mrs. Figg cried.

"Found who?" Severus asked with an icy tone. "God pray, that you are speaking of Lupin, woman! Do not even tell me that we have already misplaced the boy!"

The young maid who had started this rampage took flight from the room leaving the old housekeeper to fend for herself. Mrs. Figg, however, was not the least bit intimidated. "He must have woken from his stupor and wandered off. We will find Harry soon….Sooner if we get back too it," she added courageously.

"Don't think that I would not goes as far as to dismiss you, Mrs. Figg," he warned through gritted teeth.

The old woman snorted. "You can give me the short shrift after we find Harry, my lord." With that, she left the lord simmering.

In the next hour, there was not a corner of Spinner's End that was left unchecked. From the guestrooms and parlors to the basement and pantry, every inch was combed. Even the stable boys were pulled from their duties to look for Harry. Unfortunately, it all came to naught. How could one boy cause so much of a disruption? No one said a word to the lord as the search continued on. Luckily, Lupin had the good sense to avoid Severus all together. It was not like Severus to worry. He never wasted his time on such idiotic drivel, yet now, he was worrying like some old mother hen. Damn that boy!

Scenarios played through Severus' mind as he searched the garden. Was Harry truly lost? Had he wandered off in a state of confusion? Or was he frightened and fleeing like a deer? And how in God's name had he managed to sneak off without a single servant noticing? The boy was not a ghost. Surely, someone should have seen him! No, he couldn't blame the servants for this. He should have had someone keeping watch over him.

"I've found 'im!"

Severus' head snapped to attention when he heard the call. A young stable boy was waving them over to the small building just past the stables. In that instant, Severus felt his blood turn to ice water. That was where Hagrid kept his own mount, Buckbeak. There was a most definite reason that Buckbeak was not kept with the other horses. The animal was dangerous. Harry could be trampled to death! Precious seconds ticked by as Severus forced the well of panic away.

"Get Hagrid," he commanded to one of the gardeners before racing to stable.

At first, he didn't believe what he saw. Buckbeak, the stallion who had so frightened the stable hands that not one of them would draw near, the beast who had the look and disposition of the war horses of old, was gently sniffing at Harry's hair as the boy petted him. Oblivious, Harry continued to stroke the horse's massive neck as a crowd began to form at the door. Buckbeak, however, was not caught unaware by the interlopers. The horse stared at the group angrily and put his ears back. He let out a most irritated grunt, and angled his enormous body in front of Harry.

"'E's protectin' the lad," one young man commented in awe.

Severus bristled at the idea. The brainless beast wasn't protecting anyone. He took a step forward only to have his hand nearly taken from his wrist by Buckbeak's teeth.

"Step aside now," Severus heard Hagrid say from behind pushing through the on lookers.

In front of the stall, Hagrid joined the amazed lord. The stable master scratched his beard. "Wasn't expectin' that," he murmured.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Get the boy out of there immediately."

"Right." Hagrid stepped toward the animal. "Everyone get out o' 'ere. Buckbeak doesnae like ya here."

The crowd parted and even Severus stepped back into the shadows. He simply couldn't turn his eyes from the massive beast before Harry. Buckbeak didn't step away from the boy as Hagrid had been hoping.

Severus watched the stable master tempt the horse with a ripe red apple, but the animal was not interested. Buckbeak would not relinquish his charge so easily. Oddly enough, Harry did make a move for the apple. The boy came just far enough to swipe the fruit from Hagrid's grasp. Severus watched in horrid fascination as Harry offered the apple to Buckbeak. This time the horse happily chomped on the treat as Harry patted his ears. Buckbeak gave Harry's forehead one last sniff before deciding that the child was safe. The only one who was left wholly unfazed by the day's debacle was Harry.

Stepping from the stall, Harry grinned and pointed to the horse. He seemed to be telling them that he liked Buckbeak.

Severus sighed heavily. "I'd think that a stable would be the last place you would wish to be," he said grimly.

Harry cocked his head to the side and stared right at Severus, but made no sign of understanding. Cautiously, he stepped toward Severus lifting his fingertips to Severus' mouth. It had been many years since someone had been bold enough to touch the lord in such an intimate manner, and Severus had to bite back the urge to slap Harry's hand away. Severus caught Harry's hand at the wrist as he stepped back.

"Something tells me that you are going to be trouble," the lord muttered.

If Severus believed that this incident would be the worst the day had to offer, he was sorely mistaken. He managed to get Harry to come along nicely to the house. However, getting him to go inside was another matter. The boy backed away from the doors shaking his head stubbornly. Severus could only guess that Dursley had not allowed the boy inside the house. No matter how soothingly Severus tried to make himself sound, the boy would not budge. Sighing heavily, he did the last thing he could think of: he took Harry by the hand and led him to the door. For a moment, the boy looked at him with mournful eyes. Harry seemed to believe that he was being led to some sort of gruesome punishment, and God only knew the fear was not unwarranted.

Lupin was waiting for them at the stair. Despite his misgivings about the man personally, Lupin was the best person he could think of for Harry. The physician smiled gently at Harry. "Hello, Harry. We didn't get to meet last night, but I am Dr. Lupin. Could I examine you?" he asked softly.

Harry glanced nervously between Severus and Lupin, but he showed no sign of wanting to run.

"I have things that will make the hurt go away," Lupin revised. He pulled a jar from his bag. With slow movements, Lupin put a liberal amount of salve on his finger tips and offered it to Harry. "May I?"

Severus was less patient than Lupin. He took Harry's arm gently, and stripped away his sleeve to reveal the raw flesh. The boy shuddered but he did not pull away. "Be quick, Lupin. I don't know if he'll let us do this for long," he said curtly.

Lupin nodded. His long fingers began to work the salve into the wound. Though Harry moaned a bit at the first contact, the salve must have done its job. He offered Lupin his other wrist with little prompting.

"Better?" Lupin inquired.

Harry showed no sign that he understood, but he did stare intently at his wrists. The simple act had won Lupin Harry's trust. The smile Harry's face was brilliant. Severus wondered bleakly if anyone had ever tended to the child's bumps and bruises before, though he knew he would not like the answer.

A soft "hurumph" alerted the men to the appearance of Mrs. Figg. "Would you like me to bring Harry's breakfast, my lord?"

"Yes, Mrs. Figg. We'll take him to the green room. Have a tray brought up." Severus eyed Harry thoughtfully. "And while you are at it, have a bath drawn for him. Sheers and some clean clothing would not be amiss either."

This time, Harry willing came with Severus and Lupin. He still looked about the halls skittishly, but he did not have to be dragged along.

The green room had once been Severus' own chamber. It was spacious and luxurious with dark wood paneling and rich green velvet curtains on the bed. The room had once been in decay, like the rest of the house had been, but the years since had seen it revitalized. Were it not for Victoria's insistence, he would have used this room rather than the lord's suite. Severus had chosen this room for Harry for two reasons. First, it was very close to his own quarters and he was unwilling to leave the boy unattended from now on. Secondly, the room had a large bathing area set up behind a thin screen.

Mrs. Figg brought up Harry's breakfast tray herself. "I did as you said," she commented to Lupin. "The cook knows that Harry is to start with bland food."

"Very good," the physician replied with a nod.

"I do have to say that I don't see why you have asked us to restrict his portions," she huffed. Mrs. Figg set the tray down on the table. Severus did see what she meant. There was nothing more than a small bowl of porridge and a piece of toast.

"What is the meaning of this?" Severus asked suspiciously. Certainly the doctor would not go so far as harming the boy to get back at Severus!

Lupin sighed. "Harry has been near starvation for so long that to let him eat too much could make him extremely ill. Allowing him to gorge himself would put too much strain on his internal organs and could potentially kill him. He needs to slowly put on weight and stretch his stomach. As time goes, you may add new things into his diet and enlarge his portions," he conceded.

Severus nodded. He pulled a chair out from the table, and motioned for Harry to seat. "Come and eat, boy."

Harry wasted no time. In a thrice, he was using his fingers to shovel the warm meal into his mouth. The spoon laid untouched on the tray. He ate with no regard to propriety or manners of any kind. The grim truth was that Harry ate like the beast he had been treated as. Even Severus, with his disdain for the more delicate sensibilities, took pause at the boy's behavior. Lupin looked positively scandalized. When the food was gone, Mrs. Figg—the only one who seemed uneffected by the boy's table manners—wiped Harry's face clean with a linen.

The housekeeper gave the gentlemen a stern look. "Now, shall we get him clean and proper?"

Lupin had the decency to blush. Severus, however, did not. "I hardly think turning this one into a proper boy is possible, but clean is plausible…only until the next meal, that is."

It took all three of them to get Harry bare and into the tub. Harry knew enough that he did not like to be nude before Mrs. Figg. The housekeeper reluctantly went from behind the screen, and began to prepare the borrowed clothing. Severus and Lupin were both sopping wet by the time they got Harry scrubbed. Harry did not understand the point of the bath and seemed to think it was funny to splash at the pair. While Lupin found humor in Harry's innocent mischief, Severus could not. He abruptly left the room to sulk in his study.

Perhaps, he thought as he poured himself a brandy, keeping the boy was not a good idea. The decision to take Harry in had been rushed, made in the heat of the moment. Could he really keep the boy here? Hadn't this morning proved he couldn't keep him safe? Hadn't the bathing incident proved that he had not the patience for the boy? He did own a small cottage near Turnbridge Wells that would suit Harry well. He could easily afford to set him up there with a nursemaid of some kind. It seemed the logical solution. He would know that the boy was well cared for, and Harry would want for nothing….yet somehow, the plan didn't fit. Severus shook his head. The more he thought of sending the boy away, the more he could picture Harry's eyes staring up at him with unabashed trust and admiration. Never before had Severus seen that look in the eyes of another. Selfish as it was, he couldn't send Harry away.

Severus made his way to the hall before the green room. He was now sorry that he had left, but didn't know how to go back. He had the distinct impression that Dr. Lupin and Mrs. Figg were better able to help the boy. Harry was in good hands, and had no need for an ill tempered, old lord. Before Severus could turn, the door opened.

Mrs. Figg looked as though she had taken a turn in the bath, as well. Her wrinkled face was flushed, but she was smiling. "Oh, my lord, I was just about to fetch you!" she burst happily. "You must see what we've found under all that grime!"

"Very well," Severus agreed, feigning disinterest.

The very second he entered the room, he felt the air leave his lungs. Harry was exceedingly handsome, beautiful one could say. Unruly locks of raven hair framed his youthful face. He now looked ever more the woodland sprite with his delicate features visible. His skin was still too pale, but only a blind man could miss the glow he had about him. The ill-fitting clothing managed to conceal Harry's malnourished state and hide the ghastly marks on his wrists. Oddly enough, it took Severus a minute to realize all of this. He could see naught but the stunning shade of vivid emerald eyes that shone with true joy.

"Now, all we must work on is the proper half, I should say," Lupin said contentedly.

The vision before him had left Severus befuddled, and he had trouble finding his tongue. He nodded absently as he stared on at the boy.

Harry grinned. He pulled at his shirt and pointed to Mrs. Figg. Obviously, he wanted Severus to know where he had gotten his new attire. Though no more than a homespun shirt and trousers borrowed from one of the footmen, Harry acted as if he had been given a king's ransom in silk.

"You look very respectable," Severus agreed.

Harry bit his lip impishly. He had begun to loose his shyness and fear.

"Mrs. Figg, would you stay with Harry a moment? I would like a word with Dr. Lupin."

Mrs. Figg nodded. "Of course. Why don't you gentlemen have tea and relax? You've had quite a day. I will stay with this dear heart. Perhaps he would enjoy a sweet cake."

Lupin cleared his throat. "An apple would be better."

Severus rolled his eyes. "A word, Lupin," he demanded.

Once in the sanctuary of Severus' study, Lupin sank down into an armchair. "What did you say Harry's surname is?"

Severus snorted. "I did not say. Dursley said the boy was his nephew, and I imagine that would make him Harry Dursley…though, I can scarce believe him a blood relation to anyone in that lot. Why do you ask?"

"There is something achingly familiar about him, yet I cannot place it. I do not know the Dursley's by acquaintance—only reputation," Lupin began. "I do make my services available to the less fortunate in the area, and I do recall visiting Mrs. Brown once years ago. The poor woman complained to me that she was unable to afford her daughter's medicine after she had been let go from the Dursley household. Knowing the family as I do, I could not fathom a reason why the woman would have been sacked. Mrs. Brown always was a very hard worker…"

"Does this story have a point?" Severus asked, drumming his long fingers on the desk.

"It does," Lupin insisted. "And in fact, I think you should be very interested if you would have a whit of patience."

Severus sneered. "I do apologize, doctor. Would you please continue?"

Lupin nodded. "Mrs. Brown told me that Dursley had fired her and the stable hands at the same time. Oddly enough, she said that the man had no reason at all. He claimed that he and his family wished to go into mourning, but mourning doesn't require a family to dismiss an entire staff. She claimed that Mr. Dursley had a nasty bent."

"And just whom were they mourning?" Severus asked.

"I don't know," the physician answered glumly. "You must understand this was well over a decade ago. I only remembered it at all because Mrs. Brown died this past winter, and I was browsing through my records."

"Only you would record something so trivial," Severus muttered. "I agree though it was odd. I have every intention of finding out what went on that estate, and I have a feeling that few coins placed in the hands of one Mr. Pettigrew would do the trick."

"Peter Pettigrew?" Lupin inquired.

"God's blood, Lupin, do you know every servant within the area?" the lord exclaimed.

Now, that got Lupin to his feet. "I know them because I am the only one who will tend to them! You never took my work seriously, Severus. I wanted to become a physician to help people, and Sirius has helped me do so. If you to turn ill on the morrow, I have no doubt there would be twenty skilled doctors at your bedside by noon. Tell me who do you think cares for you grooms when they take a fever or your maids when they come down with a cough?"

"Very laudable of you, Remus. I did not mean to imply that your work was not important. Simply that it was quite the coincidence that you know so many who work for Drusley, but not the man himself. So what, pray tell, was you experience with Pettigrew?" Severus tried his best to keep his tone cordial, though he was tempted to throttle Lupin.

Lupin sat back down. "I treated him for a nasty bite on his arm about five months ago. In hindsight, I do believe Harry must have bitten him and not a horse as he claimed. I though it strange then, but now it makes sense. I do have to agree that greasing Pettigrew's palm might get you the information you need."

Severus couldn't stop himself from smirking at the thought of Harry biting Pettigrew. "Just maybe, Harry is more of a fighter than I imaged."

"Maybe," Lupin agreed. "If you have no farther need of my services…"

"I didn't mean to argue," Severus interrupted. "I would like you to stay. You have a way with Harry, and you can see that he desperately needs help."

His eyes softened. "You have a way with him, as well. Despite what you would have the world believe, I know you are a compassionate man. Harry is lucky to have you."

"I would pay you well for your time."

"It isn't a matter of money, my lord."

Severus shook his head. "Perhaps, a donation to the poor hospital then? Stay only until I can find a nursemaid. I won't beg you, Lupin."

Lupin sighed heavily. "Only until you have a proper nursemaid."

"Very well," Severus said.

He poured two glasses of brandy, and handed one to Lupin.

"Isn't it a bit early?" Lupin commented.

"To Harry," Severus toasted ignoring Lupin's admonishment. "May he find happiness in driving us all mad."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note **A huge thank you to Quixotic Hope for being my wonderful, wise beta! I am reposting this chapter with her help. Hopefully, I will be able to finish

Chapter 4: A Most Dire Situation

In the days following Harry's arrival, the boy soon lost most of his fear. He no longer shied away from the servants—though he was still wary of a few of the rougher looking stable hands—and he soon wandered freely throughout the house and grounds without a care. Harry now wore a constant look of awe and contentment. Severus, Lupin, and the house staff did not fare as well. The boy somehow managed to find his way into more trouble than Severus had ever dreamed possible. Mrs. Figg had begun to take precautions with anything that was even remotely breakable. An antique vase had been Harry's latest victim. And that wasn't the half of it! The boy was a bloody magician it seemed. He could disappear under even the most watchful eyes. Severus was quite certain that Harry would be the death of them all.

Unfortunately, the search for a proper nursemaid had been less than fruitful. Only two applicants found their way to Spinner's End. The first was a woman who had passed ancient by a century. She was terribly forgetful and kept calling Mrs. Figg "Mrs. Plum." Severus was wont to believe that she wouldn't be able to find Harry within an hour. The second was a sour spinster. "Spare the rod, spoil the child," she had quoted sternly. Under other circumstances, Severus would not be so abhorred by the idea of a sound swat on the arse if earned, but he could not subject Harry to any more abuse. No, neither woman would do.

Lupin set his teacup down and sighed as the second candidate left. "You know I can't stay here forever, my lord. Harry is no longer in need of medical attention, and I do need to see to my other patients."

Severus nodded. He knew he could ask no more of the physician. "I never imagined finding a competent nurse would be so hard."

"Nor did I," Lupin agreed. "If Harry were a young child, perhaps it would have been easier. Has there been any word from the magistrate?"

"No," Severus replied through gritted teeth. Mr. Fudge had been absent for well over a week, and Severus' patience was wearing thin. If he did not hear from the man soon, he was bound to take matters into his own hands.

Smiling, Lupin examined the flowers in the tiny vase on the table. "Yours?" he asked. The lilies had, indeed, come from Severus' own greenhouse. He'd been raising them more for hobby than actual study. "You know, Severus, I always admired your passion for your work."

An old sting hit Severus as he watched the doctor examine the bloom. In truth, he had never forgiven Lupin, and he most likely never would. Severus took a sip of tea and looked away. Dredging up the past would do no good. Still, Severus felt the ever-present desire to make Lupin pay for his betrayal. He had always been one to repay his debts in kind, yet now, he lacked the will to strike at the physician. The man had simply done too much for Harry.

"When will you leave?" Severus asked simply.

Lupin shrugged. "Perhaps the day after tomorrow, if Harry continues on like he has. The boy truly is a wonder."

"He doesn't know enough to realize that he shouldn't be so blasted content," Severus replied darkly. "For him, this is happiness…a place where isn't beaten or starved." 

"A place where is cared for," Lupin amended.

"Yes, but you're leaving. Don't become too idealistic."

Lupin's hand found its way on top of Severus', and kind amber eyes locked on to him with a sincere gaze. "Severus, why do you doubt your own ability to love? It seems that you are the only one who doubts that you can care for Harry. You have an amazingly loyal soul, and I know that you will do all in your power for the boy. Harry knows it, as well. Have you not seen how he looks at you?"

"I have seen only the looks of adoration from one who doesn't understand more than his own name." Severus drew back from the physician. The intimacy of the moment was too much to bear. Lupin was a fool to believe that they could be friends after what had passed between them

The two men sat in strained silence. Anything said could break that fragile barrier that kept them civil.

In the evening, Severus disappeared into his conservatory. The plants there were so much easier for him to deal with than people were. His work gave him a much needed escape. He could lose himself so easily as he studied each leaf and bud. With a piece of charcoal and sketchbook in hand, Severus set to work capturing even the most minute details. Concentrating on the bloom before him, he pushed all thoughts of the day from his mind. Suddenly, a crash jarred Severus from his thoughts.

He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't find what he knew he would when he opened them. Turning, he locked eyes with an oblivious and inquisitive Harry. The boy didn't even seem to notice the terracotta pot at his feet.

Severus was seething, but he did his best to maintain his composure. "I don't suppose you have any idea how much work you could cost me with something like that?"

Instead of answering, Harry closed the gap between them and began examining Severus' sketchpad. The boy had no sense of personal space. He pushed his way against Severus as he tried to get a better look at the specimen on the page. His slim body felt warm and inviting where it pressed onto Severus' thighs. Immediately, Severus felt an unwelcome tightening in his loins. He pushed the boy away and glared at him uselessly. Harry was completely engrossed in the sketches.

Harry turned to Severus and held out the book.

Fighting irritation, Severus snatched the volume from the boy's grasp. "So kind of you to return what is rightfully mine," he snarked.

The smile on Harry's lips only proved that he didn't understand a word that Severus said. How could the child go on looking at him like that? Didn't he know that such unabashed trust could only lead him down a heartbreaking path? No, Harry didn't understand and never would. Such physical beauty was wasted on a feeble mind. Those perfect green eyes lied when they shone with intelligence that was not truly there. For that, Severus both pitied and despised the boy.

Severus offered his hand to the child hesitantly. "Come along." Without a second's pause, Harry's hand was snugly wrapped inside Severus' own. He followed eagerly as the lord led the way to the green room and a waiting Mrs. Figg.

Mrs. Figg smiled at the pair. "Ah, my lord, you and the lady should have had children," she chortled. "You are so very kind to the child!" 

Severus sneered. He considered Victoria's barrenness to be the only kindness that god had shown him, but he would not say so. "I only held his hand so that the boy didn't wander off."

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Figg said as she turned her attentions to Harry. "I daresay it's time that you were off to bed, young man."

Harry seemed reluctant to let go of Severus' hand, and the older man was forced to disentangle his fingers from the boy's grasp. Harry stared at his now freed digits with a saddened look upon his face. It was almost as if he enjoyed holding onto the lord.

_If only you knew that you should not like me, _Severus thought as he turned away. Still, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of happiness that the boy seemed to prefer him to everyone else. His mind drifted back to how perfectly Harry's body had felt pressed against his own. Surely he would burn in hell for it.

"God, I must be going mad!" Severus hissed when he was safely in his own chamber. White-hot anger coursed through his veins, surpassed only by raging lust. This was absolute perversion! The boy was a third his age and mentally deficient to boot. Certainly, Severus' reaction must have been caused by his infrequent visits to a certain young actor. Yes, that was it. Severus was in dire need of release…and of a nursemaid, so that he could be free of the boy.

Fate works in mysterious ways, or so Severus would find the very next evening. During the day, he had managed to avoid both Harry and Dr. Lupin by escaping on a bruising ride in the afternoon and by cloistering himself in his conservatory for the rest of the time. Severus was quite pleased by this. He sipped his tea in his den, blissfully unaware of the upheaval at his very doorstep... or at least he was until a shaking footman appeared uninvited.

"Mi'lord?" he began shyly.

Severus' mood darkened considerably. "What mess has Harry made now?" he demanded.

"None…well, none that I know of, mi'lord. I was sent to find Dr. Lupin," the footman explained. "He's not in his room or the boy's."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the lord sighed. "Is someone injured?"

"No, mi'lord."

"Then why the sudden interest in Lupin?"

The footman obviously wanted to flee but did not. "There's a girl in the parlor who refuses to leave until she sees the doctor."

Severus glanced at the clock on his mantle. It was well past the suitable hour for visitors. Probably, the girl was nothing more than one of the maids who had caught something foul. He was not the least bit happy that Lupin's charity cases were finding their way to Spinner's End, but it couldn't be avoided really.

"Where is she now?" Severus asked irritably.

"Mrs. Figg has her waiting in the blue parlor," the footman replied.

The blue parlor? Mrs. Figg usually spirited servants out of view and to the back of the house before he had a chance to see them. Severus pushed by the footman and stormed down the hall. He would get to the bottom of this directly.

To his surprise, the young woman sitting in the parlor did not look like a maid. She was twenty—or thereabout—with thick, brown curls escaping her cap and a rather plain face. He noted the valise and heavy carpetbag that were sitting by her feet, and the dirt on the hem of her tailored brown riding habit. Also, the girl was nodding off with a cup of tea still in her grasp. Severus cleared his throat and watched as she scrambled to avoid spilling her drink. Her eyes darted to him. "Oh," she exclaimed as she stood. "I am terribly sorry for nodding off. You must be Lord Snape." She curtseyed. "I am Hermione Granger."

With a slight nod, Severus motioned for her to return to her seat. "Might I inquire as to why you are here at such an hour?"

A light blush tinged Miss Granger's cheeks. "Well, I had hoped to find Dr. Lupin at home, but his housekeeper told me that he was staying with you indefinitely, and it is a matter of importance."

"You don't say," he commented. "Are you ill, Miss Granger?"

"No, my lord. It is a personal matter that brings me here. I…" Miss Granger did not get a chance to finish as Dr. Lupin chose that moment to sweep through the door. "Remus!" 

"Oh, dear. Hermione, what mess are you in now?" the doctor asked as he embraced the young woman

Miss Granger laughed bitterly. "You know me too well. Though this time, I couldn't help it!"

Severus was not prone to eavesdropping…not in the least. It simply wasn't his fault that he was trapped in his own parlor as the pair chatted in the doorway. There was no way he could have avoided hearing the long pathetic tale of how Miss. Granger's feminist bent had gotten her promptly fired from the library. He was not to be spared a single detail on how unfair it was that women were trapped with so few options to make an academic career. Unlike Lupin, Severus did not want to hear any of this. On the contrary, he was trapped!

"Miss Granger," Severus began, "I am sure that you will require my carriage to make it to the local inn, and it is getting quite late." 

Lupin shot the lord a stern look but said nothing. Miss Granger's cheeks were a bright scarlet. "I…I was hoping that it would be possible for me to stay with you, Remus." 

"With me?" Lupin gasped.

"Well, you see, I was planning on asking if I could become your assistant. I haven't any money, and I spent all that I had on the carriage ride to your home…."

Severus rolled his eyes as he saw Lupin piecing it all together. "Hermione, don't tell me that you **walked** the entire way from my home to Spinner's End!"

"I had nowhere else to turn and nothing else to do."

With a sneer, Severus decided to at least feign generosity. "If you two will excuse me, I will have my housekeeper prepare a room."

"Thank you, my lord," Miss Granger said wearily.

Severus wanted nothing more than to find Mrs. Figg and then disappear into his solitude once more. To his dismay, when he located Mrs. Figg, the old housekeeper informed him that she had already prepared a room for Miss Granger. From bossy housekeepers to former lovers and child-like wards, Severus' world had been turned on its ear, and he no longer had the patience for any more. The lord found that the whole past week had been a misadventure, and it had all begun with just one boy.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Wager

Spinner's End was an exceedingly large estate. It stretched acre after acre. There were nineteen proper bedchambers with accommodations for thirty servants—not counting the groundskeeper and stable master, who both had their own cottages. Victoria had remarked more than once that it was possible to get lost in the seemingly endless rooms that stretched out like the catacombs. If someone would have told Severus that it was possible to be heard at one end of the house from the other, he would have scoffed at the idea. Miss Granger proved that idea to be quite wrong. At precisely thirteen minutes after four in the morning, a blood chilling scream echoed from inch to inch of the sprawling manor.

Severus leapt to action without a care that he was still in his dressing gown. In the hall outside, he raced past Lupin—also still in his nightclothes—and down the hall to the young woman's quarters.

Miss Granger was trembling violently as she backed out of the room. "There's a man in my chamber!" she cried hysterically.

"Stay with her," Severus commanded over his shoulder to Lupin.

Pushing the door open carefully, Severus glanced around the darkened room. At first, he saw no sign of any intruder, but then he heard a muffled whimpering coming from beneath the bed. He knew that sound.

Harry's bare feet stuck out from under the bed, and Severus was forced to drop to his knees to get a proper look at the boy. Harry's entire body was curled as tightly as he could manage in the scant space beneath the bed. His face was buried in his hands. Every now and again, he would let out a tiny sound that was half way between a sob and a whimper.

"Harry?" Severus called softly. The boy did not look up. "Harry, it's alright. You can come out. She's gone." Severus was quite used to Harry not responding and did not wait long before reaching under the bed and touching the boy's arm. Harry retreated farther underneath the bed without even looking at Severus.

"Bloody Christ!" Severus swore venomously as he went round the bed to get a better reach. This time, he didn't give Harry the option of ignoring him. He pulled the boy out of his hiding place. Harry struggled against him, but gave in with a shudder.

"It's alright, Harry," Severus said soothingly. Harry touched a bright red mark on his cheek and made a noise. "Did Miss Granger do that?" he asked uselessly…not that he could have blamed her if she had.

"Is everything alright in there?" Lupin inquired from behind the closed door.

"Just fine," Severus called back. "It's Harry."

The door cracked open. "Oh, dear," Lupin said as he poked his head inside. "What the devil was he doing in Hermione's room?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Why don't I just ask him?" he quipped.

"What shall I tell the servants? The entire household is standing in the hall," Lupin said(,) ignoring Snape's foul humor.

"Tell them all to return to bed, that I have seen to this myself." Severus glanced to the boy. "Oh, and Lupin, would you please take Harry to his room? I wish to have a word with Miss Granger." 

"Certainly," the physician agreed.

Once Harry was safely in his own room and the servants were once again abed, Severus beckoned Miss Granger to meet him in his study. He poured a brandy for himself and a splash of sherry for the girl. She looked at it as though he were about to poison her( but accepted the glass nonetheless. "Thank you," she murmured, pulling her wrapper tighter about her shoulders.

Severus took his seat and sighed deeply. "Did Harry harm you in any way? Did he look like he might?" he asked without preamble. He simply couldn't sweep this under the rug and ignore the remote possibility that Dursley could have been right about the boy.

"No. He didn't. In fact…I thought it strange, but he didn't seem to even realize I was in the room until I threw a book at him." Miss Granger sipped her sherry with a pensive look on her face. "He seemed to be harmless…childlike, almost."

"You are right on both accounts," Severus confirmed with a nod. "Still, I assume you are not comfortable staying here."

"To be quite honest, I'm more curious than frightened now. Who is he, my lord?" she asked.

Staring at the amber liquid in his glass, Severus was in no mood to tell the tale again, but he supposed that Miss Granger did deserve some explanation. "The boy is simpleminded and mute. I found him locked away and half starved in his uncle's stable a little over a week ago, and he has been in my care since," he told her plainly. He saw no reason to go into farther detail.

"That's terrible! How could anyone do such a thing?" the young woman cried. In an instant, she was on her feet pacing with a look of exasperation on her face. "Why would anyone seek to harm someone who can't stick up for himself? It's pure cowardice!"

Severus tapped his fingertips on the desk and let the girl go on about the injustice of it all for a moment longer before interrupting her tirade. "I do agree, Miss Granger. However, that does not solve tonight's issue. Do you feel safe with Harry in the house?"

She stopped mid-step. "I already told you, I don't think he even seemed to notice me in the room. I doubt the poor thing realizes what he did wrong. While I can't say that I enjoyed having him awaken me in the middle of the night, I know he did not mean to harm me." Her pacing began again. "However, the real question is—why was Harry even in my room in the first place?"

"Well, what was he doing when you first saw him?" he asked. The girl was irritating in the extreme, but Severus couldn't say that she was wrong.

"I couldn't be sure. I could just barely make him out in the moonlight, but he was in the corner near the bureau. At first, he was actually crouched down between the wall and the dresser. I wouldn't have seen him at all, but then he stood up," she explained.

"He was looking through your things?"

She shook her head. "No, I never unpacked my bag. However kind your hospitality, I had not intended to stay more than necessary."

"Well, then there is only one way to solve this mystery. Miss Granger, if you would wait here…"

"No. Thank you, my lord, but I intend to join you," Miss Granger interjected stubbornly.

"However strange the premise, you do realize what would happen if it were to be known that I was alone with you in a bedchamber?" Severus drawled flatly.

"It's not as if I have much of a reputation to worry about," she replied with a shrug.

Candle in hand, Severus made his way up to the bedchamber with Miss Granger at his heels. He placed the candle on top of the bureau and began looking for whatever had brought Harry to this particular chamber. It did not take him long to find the sad, little bear that Hagrid had given the boy. He picked up the ragged thing and handed it to Miss Granger before he began to open the drawers one at a time. Tucked away in the back corner of the bottom drawer, Severus found an empty spool of thread, a bright, blue feather, a shiny button, a pretty bit of lace, and a half of a sweet pastry.

"Such ridiculous nonsense!" Severus muttered angrily. All this commotion had begun over nothing more than an assortment of junk.

Miss Granger gave the bear a sad glance. "These must be his treasures," she said. "He probably thought they'd be safe here." 

"Safe from what?" the lord demanded.

"I don't know." Miss Granger was still clutching the bear as she sank down on the bed. "The poor boy was only in here looking in on his things, and I hit him with a book."

"It is not the worst the boy has endured, and I daresay that he will barely remember the incident come morning," Severus assured her unsympathetically. "Get some sleep, Miss Granger."

Severus was quite irritable when he sat down at the breakfast table the next day. Lupin, plague take him, was bright eyed as ever. The physician looked up from his tea, and he seemed to take note of Severus' foul humor for he said naught but hello. The lord took his usual seat and paid no mind to the other man. His patience had truly run dry with the interlopers that had invaded his world. He was only thankful that Miss Granger was still abed. Guest or not, he would have tossed her out on her ear if he had been subjected to anymore of the girl's incessant prattle. As he sipped his coffee in well-earned peace, Severus could not help but wonder at how Harry faired after the night's debacle.

"Do you know if Harry is awake?" Severus asked one of the footmen.

"Why, yes, mi'lord. He is out in the garden with Miss Granger," the young man replied quickly.

Severus raised a black brow.

Beside him, Lupin chuckled. "Hermione never did return to bed, it seems. I saw her this morning as she passed my door, and she told me that she was going to make friends with Harry this morning," he said. A bemused look crossed his face. "For some strange reason, she had a hatbox and a bear with her."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I assume she intends to return Harry's treasure." He relayed the night's happenings to a very unsurprised Lupin.

Clucking his tongue nervously, Lupin nodded. "That does sound like the very kind of thing Hermione would be involved in. She always was a precocious child. I knew her father quite well, and I suppose she grew up to be much like he was."

"Exactly what was your relationship to her father?" Severus asked simply to be contrary.

Lupin's face burned. "He was a colleague, nothing more. Alfred Granger was an amazingly gifted physician and a close friend."

"No need to be defensive, Lupin," Severus said wryly.

Lupin probably would have replied, but he was not given time. The childish sound of laughter filled the halls outside of the dining room, and not a thrice later Harry burst through the door dragging a somewhat disheveled Miss Granger behind him. The young woman had the good sense to be rather embarrassed by the display they made. She managed to wiggle her way out of Harry's grasp and courtesy. "Good morning, my lord. Hello, Remus," she said with flushed cheeks. "Harry found a robin's egg, and I gather he wants to show you."

Indeed, Harry was holding the broken blue shell as though it were a rare gem. He offered it to Severus with awe in those damned brilliant eyes of his. God, how he wanted to wipe that look of innocence away from Harry's face! Instead, he took the eggshell from Harry's palm, and examined it briefly. "Very interesting," he told the boy as he returned it.

Severus shared a look with Lupin, and then glanced back at the still blushing Miss Granger. She was trying desperately to shove wayward curls back into place, but stopped when she noticed that the men were looking at her. "Have I got a smudge on my face or something?" she asked horrified.

Lupin shook his head. "Hermione, I believe you and Lord Snape might be able to help each other out." He took Harry by the arm. "I will take the boy back to the garden and leave you two to work out the details."

"Details?" Miss Granger cried.

Severus sighed. He wasn't looking forward to having the little harpy in household, but it did seem the most logical solution at the moment. Besides, he would choose dealing with Granger's tongue over Harry's tempting any day.

"I have been looking for a nursemaid for Harry, and it seems you show great talent with the boy." He eyed the girl more appraisingly than he had before. She was such a plain thing with a stubborn chin—the exact image of a governess, to be precise. He knew that she had a fierce sense of honor, and he didn't doubt that she already had made herself champion of Harry's cause. Yes, Miss Granger was ready made for such a position.

Miss Granger returned his gaze full measure. "There is no talent to it. All he needs is a bit of affection and attention. True, guidance wouldn't be amiss either, but he isn't exactly hard to deal with. Had anyone given him the time, I don't believe he would be in such a state."

Severus massaged his temples. "I will pay you eight hundred pounds per year to give him the time, Miss Granger."

"That is mad!"

"I will go no higher than eight-fifty. Try and find that kind of salary as a librarian, Miss Granger," he barked.

Miss Granger sank into a chair. "I never intended to weedle my way into your household."

"Well, Miss Granger," he snarked, "you've done marvelously from the start with your lack of effort. Take the position, for I won't offer it again."

Miss Granger took much less time considering it than he had estimated. "On one condition," she agreed.

"What condition?" he inquired with a sneer. Though Miss Granger had shown that she could get on well with Harry, he would not put up with much of her silliness.

With her head held high, Miss Granger stated her terms: "I wish to educate Harry."

Now, that elicited great mirth from the lord. "You honestly believe the boy has the capacity for such? The child barely knows his own name."

"I believe that no one has give him a chance." Miss Granger obviously did not see the humor in what she had proposed.

Perhaps, this could work out to his advantage. "If you are so sure of your abilities to teach Harry, I off you a bit of sport. I wager that in one year's time, you cannot gain substantial results with the boy," he said with a mocking smile.

"Just whom will be judging Harry's progress? And what are we gambling with?" she asked suspiciously.

Clever girl, Severus thought. "I think the good Dr. Lupin will be a fine judge."

"Agreed."

Severus shrugged as though he did not care. "As for the rewards…I think we should use the two things we both have in abundance. Your time and my wealth. I will pay you four thousand pounds if you prove me wrong," Severus offered. Her eyes widened, but he was not yet finished. "And if I am right, I want you to take Harry to a cottage that I own in Turnbridge Wells. You will remain there for the rest of your time in my employ as his nurse."

Her eyes hardened. "You wish to cast him off?"

"No. If I had wished to do so, I would not be so generous. I wish to put the boy somewhere he will be safe," he answered honestly. He needn't tell her that it was himself he wished to protect the boy from. Miss Granger would never know the depths of his depravity. Devil take his soul, he wasn't sure how much longer he could take those perfect emerald eyes staring at him.

"Very well, but I don't desire your money. If I win, I want to become your assistant. I have read several of your papers and would love the opportunity to learn from you." Her gaze dared him to refuse. The chit had picked up the gauntlet quite brilliantly and nearly cast him upon his own blade.

Severus offered his hand to Miss Granger, and she accepted. In one year's time, someone would be very sorry.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: His Silent World

Today was her first official day as Harry's nursemaid. The day before had been spent unpacking and then saying a somewhat tearful goodbye to Remus. Hermione had begun the day optimistically enough. She had roused herself in time to catch Mrs. Figg carrying Harry's breakfast tray to his room. "Good morning, Mrs. Figg," Hermione said cheerfully.

The dear, old woman smiled at her. "Miss Granger, it is bound to be a wonderful day. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you've decided to stay on. Harry needs someone—though I daresay it—far younger than I am and far softer than the lord."

Holding back her laughter, Hermione moved along side the housekeeper. Soft was quite possibly the last word that Hermione could think of to describe the dark, brooding nobleman. "Lord Snape has been very generous with Harry."

"Oh, why yes! Lord Snape may have his dark manner, but he is a very good man. I doubt one man in a thousand would be as caring to the boy as he is. I've known the lord since he was naught but a boy. His mother was a distant cousin to my late husband, Thomas, you see. I could tell stories for hours about his lordship's youth for days. Oh, and the late Lady Snape…now there was a woman with dignity!" Mrs. Figg laughed. "Child, it will be very nice to have someone to talk to in this drafty old house."

Hermione smiled. "I am glad to be here, Mrs. Figg."

The women stopped before the door to Harry's bedchamber. "I sent Seamus in earlier to help Harry dress. If you don't object, I don't see any reason why Seamus shouldn't assist the boy with bathing and dressing," Mrs. Figg proposed as she knocked on the door.

"I quite agree," Hermione replied with a blush creeping to her cheeks. Though she had seen little boys naked before, Harry was too near her own age for such liberties to be taken.

A round faced, young man—Seamus, Hermione assumed—opened the door. "Good morning, Mrs. Figg. Miss Granger. Harry is dressed," he said with a slight brogue.

"Thank you, Seamus." Mrs. Figg set the tray upon the table.

At his dismissal, Seamus wasted no time exiting.

Harry was seated on the floor with the hatbox Hermione had given him the day before, examining his possessions. He didn't notice the two women as Mrs. Figg set the try on the small table.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said cheerily. She crouched down in front of him. "Harry, it's time for breakfast."

Harry grinned at her and offered her a pretty pebble from his box. Behind her, Mrs. Figg laughed. "Child, you must realize that Harry doesn't understand." The older woman grasped Harry by the arm and led him to the table.

Hermione frowned at the housekeeper. "He could. I'm sure Harry can learn at the very least to help himself with a few tasks."

"Too optimistic, I'm afraid. I have been with the boy since Lord Snape brought him here, and I can tell you quite honestly that I have seen two year olds with a greater grasp on the King's English." Mrs. Figg tsked gently. "He's such a gentle soul, but Miss Granger, you cannot expect miracles."

Having seen Harry eat the day before, Hermione was not shocked by Harry's lack of table manners. It no longer surprised her that he disdained fork and spoon nor that he didn't seem to notice the porridge dribbling down his chin. She took a linen cloth and wiped the mess from his face. "Miracles, I think not," Hermione agreed. "An improvement is all I am hoping for." 

"Well, don't wear yourself out with such," Mrs. Figg said wearily. "I will see have a maid bring luncheon up at noon."

Hermione Granger had long prided herself on her intelligence. She had received flawless marks in school, and she had, over the years, read a number of books that would have seemed staggering to even the most dedicated of scholars. Sharing knowledge was something that she felt came quite naturally to her. There hadn't been the slightest amount of doubt in her mind when she made her deal with Lord Snape, but now, as she watched Harry lolling on the grassy hill ignoring her pleas to come sit, she felt a sense of near defeat.

"Harry," she called once more, "please come and sit with me." The young man did nothing of the sort. He was far too busy examining a leaf to be bothered with learning. The pair had been outside for the better part of the day. It had been Hermione's misguided idea that a bit of fresh air would help Harry learn. She soon realized that he was easily distracted by the nature around him to focus on the flash cards.

The sky above them was beginning to darken, and Hermione did not like the looks of the clouds. She sighed. "Come along, Harry," she said touching the boy's shoulder.

Harry shook his head and frowned.

"Harry, it is time to go in," she told him sternly. Hermione made an attempt to grasp his arm, but he pulled back.

"Nuh!"

Hermoine was so taken aback that all she could do was stare. Had she imagined it? "Harry, we are going inside," she demanded, pointing to the house.

Stomping his foot, Harry shook his head. "Nuh!"

"Do you mean "no"?" she asked. Harry looked confused. He obviously didn't understand her. Hermione tried a different approach. She shook her head. "No?"

Understanding lit on his features as he repeated the gesture. "Nuh," he said.

Hermione laughed. She was so elated that Harry had actually spoken that she no longer was irritated by his refusal to come inside. She spread out her skirts and sat back down on the grass. "Well then, Harry," she said still laughing, "we are about to get wet."

It was no more than five minutes after Hermione had sat back down that the heavens opened upon them. Rain fell in buckets rather than drops. Thoroughly soaked, Harry gave Hermione a mournful glance—as though he realized that he should have headed her pleas to return. He took Hermione by the hand and ran to the safety of the house.

Once inside, Hermione was immediately set upon by Mrs. Figg baring warm blankets. "Oh, heavens! Haven't you the sense to come out of the rain!" the matron cried as she wrapped a blanket about Hermione's shoulders.

"I tried to tell him that we should come inside, but then something wonderful happened," Hermione began.

"And just what, might I ask, is so wonderful about nearly drowning yourself and your charge on your very first day?" Lord Snape appeared without warning from the door to his study. Leaning on the doorframe, he had the ominous presence of one of the storm clouds that had loomed above.

Straightening herself, Hermione refused to be intimidated. "Harry spoke his first word." 

"Indeed." Lord Snape frowned. "Mrs. Figg, take Harry upstairs and have Seamus see to him. Perhaps bring him some tea. It wouldn't do to have Lupin return so soon after his departure. Miss Granger, you will come to my study as soon as you are changed."

Hermione did as she was told, though she was nearly bursting with rage. Lord Snape had managed to convey more sarcasm and disbelief into a mere word than she had heard from even the sourest of malcontents. How dare he imply that she was lying! Of all the stubborn, block-headed, narrow minded, high handed…. The list of insults Hermione wished to heap on the lord was simply too long to name. She contented herself to merelymuttering to herself that she and Harry would prove him wrong. Feeling surprisingly defiant, Hermione decided to take a detour on the way to Lord Snape's study.

Knocking on Harry's door, Hermione was once again greeted by Seamus. "Miss Granger, I thought you'd be with the laird," he said with his eyes slightly wide. "It isn't wise to get 'im too riled."

Hermione forced a smile. "I thought that I would check on Harry first. Is he decent?"

Seamus shrugged. "As decent as he will let me get him. Won't let me put 'is shoes on or button his shirt."

"I will see what I can do," she assured him.

Bathed in the flashes of lightening, Harry stood staring out the window with a mixture of fear and of awe alight on his features. Hermione was forced to wonder when the last time Harry had seen a storm or been caught in the rain. Just how long had he been locked away in that stall? A tremendous crash of thunder shook the house. Hermione couldn't help but jump a bit when it sounded, and at first she expected Harry to be frightened. Instead, he stared in wonder at the floorboards. Tentatively, he reached out his fingers to the window. As more thunder rumbled, Harry simply stared at his flattened palms across the glass.

"What's he doin'?" Seamus asked mystified.

Hermione couldn't answer. Her throat tightened as she began to consider whether it was the sound or the feel of the thunder that had him so enraptured. "Harry," she called. "Harry!" This time a bit louder.

Seamus looked at her as though she were going mad. "He never answers when he's called," he said plainly.

Hermione shook her head. "No, he doesn't. Have you ever seen him react to sound?" she asked.

"Sound?" Seamus repeated. "Just what are you getting' at?" 

Only one way to test this, she thought picking up a delicate teacup. With as much force as she could muster, Hermione threw the cup at the floor. The shattering glass provided an echoing crash. She didn't doubt for a second that Lord Snape could hear it from below. Still—watching Harry remain unmoving—Hermione was almost positive that the boy standing just a few feet away had not heard it. The truth felt like a cannon ball dropped onto her stomach.

"You've lost your bloomin' mind!" Seamus roared.

Calmly, Hermione strode to Harry's side and touched his shoulder. His eyes met hers. He looked at her with mild curiosity. Harry grasped her wrist and placed it on the windowpane as he had done. He was trying to share his discovery with her. In that instant, Hermione realized just how foolish they had all been.

"Yes, that's thunder," she told him as she held back tears. She knew that Harry couldn't hear her and didn't understand what she was trying to say, but that the moment there was nothing she could do for that. Hermione sidestepped the broken teacup as she made her way to the table. She motioned for Harry to follow, which he did obediently. When she pulled out a chair and pointed to it, he sat.

Seamus muttered to himself as he watched. "How'd you do that?"

"It's simple," Hermione answered with a shrug. "He can't hear. If he can see what you want, he understands."

"I don't envy you tellin' the lord that," Seamus groaned.

At that very moment, neither Seamus nor Hermione knew how true those words would prove. Lord Snape was trying to remain patient as the clocked ticked damningly away. Miss Granger's procrastination was only raising his ire. Had he not instructed the girl to come to his study directly? It did not matter. She was to be dismissed as soon as she came down. He should have known better than to make such a bargain with the chit. Still, he had not expected Miss Granger to sink as low as to lie to win the bet. Severus snorted at the very idea that in one day's time Miss Granger could have the boy speaking. It was ridiculous! How dare the girl insult his intelligence by spouting such nonsense!

Just when he had about made up his mind to drag Miss Granger downstairs by force, she appeared in the doorway. Her skin was pale and tears ran freely down her cheeks. Severus stiffened. If she thought that she could ply such shameless, female tactics on him, she was sorely mistaken. "I am so glad that you decided to join me," he drawled acerbically.

"My lord, I discovered something about Harry," she said through her tears.

"Is this another ruse of yours to win our wager?" he asked flatly.

Miss Granger's eyes glittered with animosity. "You honestly think that I would do something like that? On second thought, don't answer. I have already realized that you are too self-absorbed and heartless to see anything that you do not wish to see. Why should I bother listening to your accusations about me?"

He shot out of his chair. "Miss Granger, you are treading on dangerous ground," he warned. No one, not even Victoria, had been so bold as to insult him outright in years.

"It is simply easier for you to believe that Harry is as Dursley told you—that he is dull witted. And what use educating him? No, it is just easier to find someone to pawn him off on." Miss Granger's face was now red with fury. New tears were falling as she spoke. "Can't you even see that he is trying desperately to communicate?"

"You will explain yourself," Severus demanded through clenched teeth. Every drop of his blood was seething. He was very close to actually harming the vile creature before him. Years ago, on the night Remus had left him, Severus had torn a room at the local inn to shreds. The anger he had felt then was now being eclipsed a thousand times over.

Chin held high, Miss Granger looked him straight in the eye. "Harry is deaf."

"You're lying!"

"I wouldn't lie."

"Oh, no?" Severus shot back. "You are an ambitious young woman."

"And you are supposed to be a scientist," Miss Granger spat.

Severus glared at her. "Exactly how does that pertain to the current argument?"

"Easy," Miss Granger replied. "You are supposed to be able to formulate an answer by looking at the evidence around you. Did it never occur to you that Harry never even turns his head to a sound? That he is quite willing to please when he simply understands what is being asked of him?"

This gave Severus pause. His mind began to reconstruct all of the times he had been with the boy, and no, he could not remember Harry ever reacting to a sound. Suddenly, he recalled how Harry had not even looked down as the pot had shattered at his feet just two nights ago. And it had been Hagrid's movements that lured Harry from his prison, not his words. Severus felt the Earth shift beneath his feet, and he fell back into his chair. "Have you tested your theory?"

"I called his name several times, and when that did not work, I threw a cup. He didn't even start at the noise. Harry reacts quite well to movements. It would stand to reason—if he could hear—he would react to sounds, as well," she said logically.

"I heard the crash," Severus confirmed as he buried his head in his hands. "I assumed Harry had broken something. You honestly believe this?"

"I do."

Severus sank into his chair. At this point, he no longer doubted Miss Granger's theory. Only one thing remained. "Did Harry truly speak?" he asked.

Miss Granger nodded. "I tired to take him inside before the storm hit, and Harry said "no." It wasn't very clear at first, but if Harry can't hear, that would seem reasonable."

"I will want proof of all of this," Severus said in a strained voice. "You are dismissed, Miss Granger. Go see to Harry."

Severus barely heard Miss Granger's reply. His mind was abuzz with regret. How was it that this mere girl had seen what he had not? Perhaps, Miss Granger had been right. It had been easy to assume that Dursley had been telling the truth about Harry's mental state. Had Dursley even known that Harry was deaf? Most likely not. He—much like Severus had—probably had simply never taken the time to find out. Severus knew that this was one more black mark against his soul.


	7. Chapter 7

**LIME ALERT!!!! SEXUAL CONTENT AHEAD!!!!**

Also, just to clarify. Lady Eileen Snape is the "late Lady Snape," and Lady Victoria is the current Lady Snape.

Chapter 7: Absolute Depravity

Severus remained in solitude from the moment Hermione told him of Harry's deafness. The servants had been duly warned not to disturb the lord unless they had a dire need to do so. Consumed with guilt, he could not bare to see Harry. The ever closing walls around him only served as a reminder of how his world was changing all because of one boy. In the end, he could take no more. Without so much as a word to anyone, Severus began to pack his valise.

He found Hagrid in the stable and ordered that his carriage be readied for a small trip to the village. From there, he took a hired carriage to London. Thus Lord Severus Snape, a man known for his steely ire, ran away.

The streets of London were bathed in the eerie glow of the street lamps. As the carriage rolled on, rag clad beggars called out for alms, and prostitutes offered their services. It was hard to believe that this was the city that Victoria was so enthralled with. Severus couldn't see anything beautiful about a place so dirty and corrupt. There were few things that could drag Severus from his country home and into the city. One of those things happened to be living in an elegant flat on the wealthier side of town. Severus paid the driver and instructed him to return just before dawn.

When Severus let himself into the flat, a blond-haired man still in Elizabethan costume was waiting for him on the settee. "You don't give much warning, my lord," Gilderoy Lockhart said in a sultry voice.

The lord removed his cloak and gloves. He studied the actor before him. Lockhart was handsome in a pretty sort of way. His golden curls and toothsome smile made him the object of many a lady's secret desire—and many a gentleman's, as well. Severus had stumbled upon Lockhart when he was no more than a youth struggling to move from behind the stage to on it. Still reeling from Lupin's betrayal, Severus had no need or want for love. He simply wished to find an indulgence for his baser needs. The two had come to a mutually beneficial agreement. Lockhart would become his "mistress," and, in turn for sex and his discretion, Severus would grease enough palms to get the boy all that he desired. He was a mediocre actor at best and could never quite manage to feign the lust he proclaimed for Severus, but he would do. Or at least he did until Severus found himself wishing for a raven-haired innocent.

"Undress," Severus commanded without preamble.

Lockhart smiled seductively. "Are you not in the mood for foreplay?"

"How very perceptive!" Snape mocked. "Undress, and for the love of god, keep your silence."

This time, Lockhart simply did as he was told. He had become accustomed to the lord's harsh manner. There were things he no longer expected when the lord bedded him. For instance, in the two years that he had known Lord Snape, the pair had never once kissed. Lord Snape thought little of romance. A rough toss in the sheets was all that Lockhart was useful for, and there were no illusions between them.

Severus eyed Lockhart's muscular form with near apathy. He removed his own clothing and pushed the blonde on to the bed. When Lockhart made a move to turn onto his back, Severus held him firm. "Don't," he said flatly. He had no desire to look at Lockhart as he took him.

With a guttural moan, Severus slid into Lockhart's body. He closed his eyes and imagined a very different form lying on the bed before him. In his mind, he could see Harry's pale skin. His fingers ran down Harry's back as he moved gently into his rhythm. A cry tore through him, and he felt himself reach his release. Eyes still closed, a warm mouth descended upon his own, and, for a second, he found himself taken in. Then he opened his eyes. The spell was broken.

Severus pushed Lockhart back with such force that the actor was helpless to avoid it. "What do you think you're doing?"

Lockhart's face flushed an angry red. "Why would you fuck me as if you cared if you didn't want me to kiss you?" he shot back.

"Believe me; I don't care, Lockhart," Severus said in a glacial tone. "In fact, after tonight, you may consider our agreement dissolved. Don't worry about the flat. It is paid up till year's end, and I am sure you can find a new patron quickly."

"What makes you think that you are the only one in my bed?" Lockhart asked as he dared to meet Severus' gaze. Though he was obviously no match for the dark-haired nobleman, he was not about simply bare this without reason.

To Lockhart's dismay, the lord only began to laugh. His reply was quite simple. "Because you wouldn't dare disobey me."

The room became as silent as a crypt. Lockhart was intelligent enough to realize that it would not be wise to further bait Lord Snape, and Severus had said as much as he ever would on the matter. The affair was over, yet neither man could say that he would miss the other. Lord Snape dressed, and left to meet his coach.

Exhaustion was setting in as Severus handed the driver the address of his next stop. This time, the carriage turned down neat cobblestone streets and passed homes that only the wealthiest gentry could afford. Finally, the vehicle came to a gentle stop before an impressive townhouse.

With dawn's light barely in the sky, the servants were already awake and beginning the day as Severus entered his London home. The aged butler, Dobby, met him at the door. "My lord, we didn't know you would be arriving. We received no word," he said fretfully.

"Because I sent none," Severus replied wearily. He shoved his valise toward the little man. "Have one of the maids iron my clothes before I wake. I wish to see Lady Snape before I rest."

"My lord, I…I…Well, that is to say…" Dobby stammered as the color left his face.

Severus let out a dark laugh. "I do believe I will surprise my 'darling' wife right now."

As he ascended the stairs, Severus couldn't help but feel a surge of righteous anger. He asked very little of Victoria. It would be unfair—not to mention hypocritical—of him to ask for her fidelity, and he did not. Instead, he demanded only that she be discreet. What he saw when he opened the chamber door was certainly not discretion.

Victoria was sprawled nude across the bed with her delicate limbs still entwined with those of a nameless man. The room smelled of sex and turned Severus' stomach. Neither lover stirred as Severus crossed the room. His booted steps were mercifully quiet, but the morning light was not so kind as he threw open the drapes. Victoria let out a tiny moan and brought a hand to her face. Her eyes fluttered open.

"My god! Severus!" she cried as she struggled to free the sheet from beneath her bemused lover.

The young man in question sat up in shot. His face went deathly pale as he stared at Severus, and his mouth made a valiant-but-vain attempt to form words. Finally, he slid from the bed. "It's not what you think, my lord!" he lied in a trembling voice.

"It appears that you've bedded my wife. Do you mean to tell me that you were merely keeping her warm while she slept?" Severus sneered malevolently. "Put on your clothing, and never return to this house. If you so much as speak to her again, I shall have your heart roasting on a spit. Do you understand?"

Nodding hastily, the young man scrambled to get himself dressed and as far from the lord as humanly possible. It wasn't until they were alone that either Victoria or Severus spoke.

"You could have given me warning," she said coldly.

"We had an agreement," Severus stated blandly. "I have not once denied you anything that you could wish for. In return I expected to have a wife who avoided scandal, not brought it into my home."

Victoria laughed bitterly. "This is hardly your home, Severus. Just as I am hardly your wife. There has been no scandal. If you came out of concern for your name, I assure you it remains unsullied."

"You will not bring men into this house," Severus commanded. "What you do with whom is not my concern. What you do in my house is my concern."

"Yes, my lord," Victoria replied resentfully. "Is there anything else you require of me?"

Severus scowled at her. "Unfortunately, there is. Do you know anything of a family with the name Dursley?"

"You came all the way to London to ask me that?" Victoria asked incredulously. "Of course I have heard of the Dursleys—though I wish I could say that I didn't. Why do you ask?"

"I would rather not discuss it at present. I expect you to be clothed and punctual for tea this afternoon." With nothing more to say, Severus exited the room.

It did not take the lord long to fall asleep that day. He near collapsed into bed. For years, Severus had fought bouts of insomnia, yet he was simply too tired to remain awake a second longer. As his eyelids fluttered down, suddenly his thoughts were on Harry. Severus rarely dreamed, but when he did, things were crystal clear.

In his mind's eye, he could see Harry's naked form sprawled on the lawn. The smile on the boy's lips was not as innocent as before, and his eyes were ablaze with desire. Delicate fingers reached up and began to trail down Severus' nude chest, pausing at each nipple before ghosting downward. Shaking with desire, Severus thrust Harry's legs apart with his knee. He began to taste the boy gently. Tiny flicks of his tongue on Harry's sensitive collarbone sent a quake down his slender body. Never had Severus been so very aroused.

"Touch me," Severus commanded huskily. Dream Harry not only heard to what Severus said but obeyed as well. Talented hands wrapped around the thickness of Severus' hardening cock. Nearly satisfied, Severus dipped his head to whisper in Harry's ear, "Say that you want me."

Harry's lips quivered, and his smile faltered. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a strange noise escaped. As Severus faded from his dream, all he saw was pure hurt in Harry's beautiful green eyes.

Severus awoke in his bed with a stiff cock and a heavy mind.

Victoria was waiting for him when he made his way downstairs. If Severus fancied women at all, he didn't doubt that he would be more than happy with his wife. She was tall—though not imposingly so—and slender, yet still womanly. Honey gold wisps of hair escaped her simply coif and sparkling blue eyes gazed out at the world from a startlingly beautiful face. If only Severus did not know what a callous heart lay beneath her breast, he might feel at least a fondness for his wife. Between his own taste for men and his wife's viper-like nature, Severus could summon up nothing when he looked at her.

Ten years ago, Victoria had been dubbed the "Diamond of the season" by many gossips. It was her quite unfortunate turn with those very same gossips that ruined her so thoroughly that not even notorious rakehells would associate with her. With her reputation in tatters, Victoria became a pawn in the grand plan of Lady Eileen Snape. It mattered little to his mother that the two had never met, nor that Victoria's reputation was well earned. She orchestrated a wedding with great flair. The marriage had seen to it that the Snape family coffers were once again brimming and that Lady Victoria was now the height of respectability and fashion. In that respect alone, the marriage was a great success. Since the death of Lady Eileen two years prior, they saw little of each other. They were a contemptuous pair at best and mortal enemies at worst.

His "Diamond" faked a smile. "My lord, I took the liberty of having Cook prepare a slightly heartier fare since you have seen fit to sleep through both breakfast and luncheon," she said in a voice equally as false.

He nodded and followed her into the dinning room where a table was set with tea for Victoria and luncheon for Severus.

"Tell me what you know about the Dursleys."

Victoria took a dainty sip of her tea. "I don't know all that much really. My father had a business association with Mr. Dursley's brother-in-law, Sir James Potter. Sir James was in the shipping industry, you see. He'd made quite a name for himself in the King's Navy and earned the title. His wife, Lady Lily, was Mrs. Dursley's younger sister. She was quite a lovely woman, not at all like Mrs. Dursley," she noted thoughtfully. "It was quite tragic how they died. They were returning home from a holiday in Scotland when their carriage was attacked by highwaymen. Their driver barely survived. He claimed that Sir James died trying to protect Lady Lily."

Severus tapped his fingers on the table irritably. "So all that you truly know about them is that they are related to Sir James and his wife?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are quite impatient?" Victoria asked with sarcasm dripping from her every word. "No. I do know more, but it all begins with the Potters and their son."

Now that caught Severus' attention. When Dursley had said that the boy was his nephew, he had only assumed that the boy was his blood relation. Feigning ignorance, Severus motioned for Victoria to continue. "I am sorry, my dear. You were saying?"

Victoria frowned, but she did continue. "When they died, they left behind a young son and an immense fortune. Mrs. Dursley was the only blood relative the boy had, but he did have a legal godfather, Sir James' best friend and business partner, Lord Sirius Black. Rumor had it that Lord Black actually paid the bandits to kill Sir James, though it was never proven. There was quite a stir over it. Why Mr. Dursley took Lord Black to the courts and even managed to have the boy put into his custody."

"And what happened to the boy?" Severus asked, biting back the rising bile in his stomach. He had an idea where this was going.

"The poor thing died of fever when he was only six, though I doubt the Dursleys were too saddened by the loss. Petunia Dursley was at a ball wearing purple silk not a full month after the child died," Victoria said with disgust. Sadly, her concern seemed to lie with Mrs. Dursley's fashion choice rather than her obvious lack of concern for her late nephew.

"Do you happen to recall the boy's name?"

Victoria was beginning to eye him suspiciously. "I believe it was Harry Potter. Severus, why the sudden concern for a child who died nearly twelve years ago?"

_Twelve years ago! But that would make Harry eighteen!_ Severus thought. He tried to keep his rage contained, but the thought that Harry had been locked away for over a decade renewed his resolve to see Dursley's head on a pike. How could anyone be so cruel, so greedy as to keep a child locked away simply to claim an inheritance? Twelve years. Severus couldn't even imagine being held captive like that.

"My lord, you're bleeding!" Victoria cried.

Until she spoke, Severus hadn't even noticed that the handle of the delicate teacup had cracked in his grasp. Holding a cloth to the wound, Severus excused himself curtly. The bleeding stopped quickly, but that was not what pained Severus the most.

His mind kept drifting back to Harry. There were nearly as many new questions as there were new answers. The boy's life was even more depressing than it had seemed at first. One thing was certain: from here on out, Severus would be much more diligent about searching for the truth. He could think of one way to get to the bottom of this.

Severus penned a quick note and gave it to a footman. "I want you to deliver this to Mr. Jonathan Whit. Tell him that the matter is quite urgent and that he will be paid well for his time," he commanded.

"Yes, mi'lord," the footman said with a bow.

As Severus sit behind his desk, he began to wonder just how deep the secrets were rooted.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Do not be offended by the term "asylum" when I refer to Hogwarts Asylum for the Deaf. In the 1800's the word "asylum" was often interchangeable when used to refer to schools that catered to the disabled or the deaf.

Chapter 8: Table Manners And Other Surprises

Hermione woke not long after dawn. The revelations from the night before had made sleeping near impossible. She had tossed and turned beneath the sheets until they were twisted about her body in a knot. Thoughts of the young man sleeping on the other side of the house kept invading her mind. So many people had failed Harry, and she struggled to imagine what a life like his must have been like. A million questions came to her mind, but she had no way to ask him. By the time she gave up on sleep, Hermione had begun to formulate a plan.

Just as she was on her way to the kitchen, Hermione spotted a very disheveled Mrs. Figg rearranging flowers in vase. The older woman looked as though she had not slept well either. "Oh, Miss Granger," the housekeeper said softly. "I hadn't thought you would be up yet."

"I couldn't stay abed," Hermione admitted.

Mrs. Figg nodded knowingly. "I must say that between the news about Harry and the master leaving, I was quite upset myself."

"Lord Snape isn't here?" Hermione asked in shock. How could the man leave at a time like this? Why, the idea was simply heartless!

"He left late last night for London. You must understand that the lord is man who does not take things lightly. I fear he places the blame squarely on his own shoulders," Mrs. Figg said sadly.

Hermione swallowed hard. "And running away helps matters," she blurted out.

Mrs. Figg's face fell. "Miss Granger, if you knew the lord, you wouldn't say such things."

"Well, I don't know him, and I doubt I ever truly shall."

A silence fell between the two women. Neither wanted to say anything else to offend the other, but both were sure that if they continued with the conversation that they would. Instead, Mrs. Figg changed the subject all together. "I shall tell Cook to prepare your breakfast and ready Harry's tray," she suggested.

Hermione shook her head. "I thought that perhaps I would bring Harry down here to eat. It's high time he learn some table manners, and, with the lord gone, no one is here to object." 

"Very well," the housekeeper replied. "In that case, I will send Seamus up to wake the boy and get him dressed."

When Harry came into the breakfast parlor that morning, he had a quizzical look on his face. It was as though he knew what should be happening and was slightly thrown by the change in schedule. Hermione smiled at him. "Good morning, Harry," she said with a small wave.

Harry grinned and repeated the gesture enthusiastically

Hermione pulled out a chair for Harry, and he sat down just as obediently as he had the night before. She remained standing as the maids began bringing out the plates. Moving with lightening reflexes, Hermione caught Harry's hand before he could dig into the meal with his bare fingers. Looking at her with large, confused eyes, Harry frowned. "No," Hermione said shaking her head for emphasis.

She moved to her own chair and sat down. Using exaggerated gestures, she picked up her napkin and placed it in her lap. She pointed at Harry, signaling for him to do the same. With a heavy sigh, Harry did as he was asked. "Yes, Harry. That's good," she said slowly. And thus began Harry's introduction to table manners. By the end of the meal, Harry had learned the uses for his spoon and his napkin. He would hardly be fit to dine in fine society, but it was a start. Hermione couldn't stop herself from smiling as she recalled how little Lord Snape expected of the boy. It appeared that she was bound to win the wager after all. Why, she didn't doubt that Harry could learn much more than simply how to eat porridge using silverware.

After the breakfast dishes were cleared, Hermione summoned a footman. "Could you have the stable master prepare a carriage for us, please?" she requested uncomfortably. She wasn't quite used to having the authority to request anything of anyone, but she truly did want Remus' opinion.

The boy looked at her nervously. "Do you think that's a good idea, miss?" he asked. "I don't know if the lord wants him off of the property."

Hermione bit her lip. To be honest, the young man had a point, but surely Lord Snape wouldn't object to a simple trip to the physician's. "I wasn't implying that I wished to take Harry into town, merely that I thought it best he see Dr. Lupin," she amended. "If the lord has reason to be wroth with anyone, it will be me."

"Yes, miss," he relented, still looking wary.

The carriage was brought round shortly, and Hermione managed to get Harry inside the vehicle with very little fuss. He actually seemed rather excited to be going for a ride. Leaning his head out the window, Harry was enthralled by the passing scenes. He pointed at things that caught his attention as they passed. Hermione couldn't help but let out a girlish giggle at his enthusiasm for the most mundane. Every passerby on the street and cow in the field was reason for Harry to nearly bound out of his seat. He was an innocent child in a young man's body. Despite the light ghosting of a beard that Seamus helped shave off every morning, Harry was nowhere near grown. Anyone who would have looked at him that day would have agreed. In that regard, Hermione didn't know whether to envy him or pity him.

As the carriage came to a stop, a look of apprehension crossed Harry's face. He stepped down behind Hermione, but made no move to pull ahead of her as he was so often wont to do. Taking his hand, Hermione whispered, "Harry, there's nothing to worry about."

Remus' home was modest by most standards—miniscule in comparison to Spinner's End—but it was warm and inviting. The cottage's stone façade was covered in ivy, and well tended rose bushes bloomed along the gate. A tiny stable sat just off to one side of the house, and Remus' small buggy was sitting horseless. 

Hermione knocked on the door and was soon greeted by a round-faced woman. Mrs. O'Grady, Remus' housekeeper, opened the door with a cheery grin. "Why, Miss Granger, we weren't expecting you," she said kindly. "Come in, come in. The doctor is in his study."

"Thank you, Mrs. O'Grady. Would it be alright if Harry and I waited in the parlor?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, child!" Mrs. O'Grady stepped aside to allow them inside.

The interior of the house was much like the exterior—quaint and homey. Hermione led Harry into a well used sitting room and took a seat on the couch. She watched as Harry examined the books lining the walls. Someday, she dearly hoped that she could teach him to read. She made note to ask Remus if he knew of any of the techniques used in the teaching of deaf children.

Remus appeared in the doorway not long after they had arrived. He removed his reading spectacles and smiled at the pair. "I hope this is a social visit rather than a professional one," he teased.

"It is a bit of both, I'm afraid," Hermione replied. She began to rattle off the events of the past two days, and before long she was pacing as she spoke. Finally, she managed to settle herself back onto the sofa. "So now you understand why I just had to visit you." 

The physician remained silent for quite a while. He paled visibly when he realized exactly what he had missed. "I never imagined…what I mean to say is…oh dear, this is utterly inexcusable," he stammered sadly. "It does change things quite a bit."

"It does," Hermione agreed. "Now what?"

"I would like to examine him again, if you would agree," he suggested.

"I had thought you might. Though that is not the only reason I came," Hermione said. She sighed. "How does one teach a pupil who cannot hear? How will he ever learn to speak, to communicate?"

Remus frowned. "He might not. I recall a deaf woman whom I saw in London years ago. She had no lingual skills and very little ability to care for herself. I found her in a workhouse clearing scraps from beneath the looms when I came to offer my services there. I took her to the Hogwarts Aslyum for the Deaf, but at her age, they told me there was little to be done. I can't say that this is the case for Harry, and I think I should write the headmaster there for his opinion. However, I will say that I was very impressed by many of the students there." 

"How so?" Hermione inquired.

"Well, for starters, I was very much awed to learn just how complex the language they use is. Sign language is more than just unintelligent gestures. While I was there, the headmaster allowed me to sit in on a literature lecture. While I am not sure it is as detailed as the King's English, I do have to say that it certainly has an eloquence to it. Also, I met several completely deaf students who could tell what I was saying to them by the way my lips moved and were able to speak quite clearly. It was quite fascinating," Remus admitted. "Who knows, perhaps Harry will one day be able to do the same."

"I hope so," Hermione said, biting back tears. "I can't stand not being able to speak to him. There is so much I want to tell him! So much that I can see he wants to know! My heart breaks knowing how helpless I am right now. And with Lord Snape gone, I can't help but feel that I am his champion."

Remus smiled and handed her his handkerchief. "With you in his corner, I doubt he'll ever need anyone else, Hermione."

The three ate a light luncheon together. Needless to say, the doctor was quite amazed by how Harry comported himself at the table. Afterward, Hermione waited in the parlor while Remus took Harry to another room to begin his examination. She picked up a book and had just begun to read when a woman appeared in the room.

"Oh," the stranger said looking at Hermione, "I didn't know there would be anyone else here to see the doctor today." 

Hermione stood. "I am here with my…ah…friend. We shouldn't be long, Miss…?"

"Brown. Lavender Brown," she said, holding out her hand. "I saw you arrive on the coach last week." 

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Brown," Hermione said, taking Miss Brown's hand. She studied the woman before her. Though her features would have been considered pretty, Miss Brown was far too thin and too pale. Her skirts were obviously well worn, and her hands bore the calluses of a woman who made her trade with the needle.

"Is your friend ill, Miss Granger?" Miss Brown asked boldly.

"He is here for a simple examination. And you?"

Miss Brown shrugged. "I've never been healthy. Dr. Lupin has ever been a godsend to me. My mother—God rest her soul—called him an angel, and I can't say that she was wrong."

Hermione smiled. "He is one of the kindest souls that I have ever known."

"Have you known the doctor long?" Miss Brown asked.

Before Hermione could reply, Harry came flying into the room, holding up a wooden tube. He pushed into her hands, motioning for her to look through it. She put the thing aside and pointed to Miss Brown.

Harry waved to Miss Brown a bit warily, but he did smile at her.

Miss Brown, however, looked as though she were horrified. She began to hyperventilate almost immediately. "H…Harry Potter. You're dead!" With those words, Miss Brown fell promptly to the floor in a dead faint.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Ghost of Harry Potter

It took nearly twenty minutes and a hefty amount of smelling salts for Miss Brown to come to. Remus sent Harry out to the garden with Mrs. O'Grady. He didn't want to risk the poor woman's ) having another fit. As it was, Miss Brown was still rather distressed when she woke. With shaking hands, she accepted a glass of water from Hermione.

"Take small, slow sips," Remus instructed her. In all of his years as the girl's physician, he had never seen her react so. Though he was beginning to put together a theory—and not a pleasant one at that—of what was happening. He waited until Miss Brown had finished the water and her tremors had ceased to ask: "Would you like to tell me why Harry gave you such a fright?"

Miss Brown took a deep breath. "So I didn't imagine him," she said softly. "I thought Harry had died of the spotted fever over eleven years ago."

"How did you know Harry, Miss Brown?" Hermione asked as she began to pace.

"Harry had been sent to live with the Dursleys after his parents' deaths," Miss Brown replied. "We had played together when my mother worked for the Dursleys, you see. Though I was older and only the daughter of a widowed housekeeper, the Dursleys never allowed Harry to play with the children of any of the local families, and their own son treated him quite terribly. My mother was always very fond of Harry, and I think he looked to her as a replacement for his mother. Harry took ill when he was six. Fearing for my health, my mother took me to my aunt's home nearby. When she returned, Mr. Dursley wouldn't even let Mother passed the door. He had our things packed and a pittance for severance pay waiting for her. The fat toad told her that Harry had died and that they wished to mourn his passing without any servants underfoot."

Remus was appalled. Though not a violent man by nature, he wished to see all of the Dursleys drawn and quartered for what they had done. He simply couldn't fathom why anyone would treat a child so poorly. A little boy of six could not have done anything to warrant such behavior.

"I came to live here two years after your mother had been dismissed, and I remember her telling me about it. It stuck in my mind as something odd, but now I understand that they must have used the opportunity to hide Harry," he mused darkly.

Hermione stopped pacing and cocked her head to the side. "If you haven't seen Harry since he was six, how did you recognize him?" 

Miss Brown dabbed at the tears in the corners of her eyes. "Did you ever notice the scar on Harry's forehead? We were playing by the stream one day when Harry fell and hit his head off of a jagged rock. Old Dr. Slughorn had to come and stitch it up. Mother blamed me for letting Harry run wild. Though I was only nine, she said I should have known better, and I felt very guilty for it." She gave a sad smile. "Besides, I remember that unruly hair and those eyes. I was quite jealous that a boy should have such gorgeous emerald eyes."

Hermione smirked. "I thought the same thing when I met him."

"Might I have a word with Harry….or should I say Mr. Potter?" Miss Brown asked timidly. "I hope that my behavior hasn't offended him too terribly."

Remus took the seat next to Miss Brown. "My dear, I do have something to tell you about Harry..." Try as he might, he could not find the words to explain Harry's situation. His mouth opened slightly, but he simply couldn't speak.

Finally, Hermione came to his rescue. "Remus, would you be so kind as to find Harry?"

"Oh, yes," he replied all too quickly. Though he knew it was quite cowardly, Remus fled the room.

Despite the bright, cloudless sky and pleasant air, Remus felt a deep grayness in his heart. He had completely overlooked Harry's deafness and then been completely unable to even tell Miss Brown about it. Remus watched Harry examining a butterfly through the kaleidoscope. The boy had such a sense of wonder about him. It made Remus wonder "what if." What if Harry had not lost his hearing? What if Remus had not ignored all of the strange rumors about the Dursleys? What if Remus had figured out that Harry could not hear and sent him straight away to Hogwarts? In truth, Remus did not question why Severus left Spinner's End. The physician knew all too well the guilt the lord must carry.

Remus sent Mrs. O'Grady back to the house and took a seat on the bench. Harry didn't notice the change until Remus touched his shoulder. The boy smiled.

"Harry, I owe you an apology so great that I don't think I will ever be able to truly make up for what I have done," Remus murmured. "I simply hope that one day you will be able to understand me when I do try."

Harry held out the kaleidoscope for Remus, but the doctor shook his head. "It's yours," he said, folding the boy's hands around the toy. Harry's face brightened, and gratefulness shone in his eyes. Though Harry did not have the words, it was one of the most heartfelt "thank you's" that Remus had ever received, and it warmed his heart.

After what seemed like an eternity, Miss Brown and Hermione emerged from the house. Tears had left Miss Brown's cheeks damp and discolored. She avoided looking at Harry and instead turned to Hermione. "I swear I will not breathe a word of this to a living soul," she promised. Miss Brown bit her lip and finally cast a worried glance to Harry. "Please, take care of him. God knows, he deserves it."

With those words, Miss Brown scurried down the lane never once mentioning what had brought her to Remus' door in the first place.

Hermione sighed heavily. "I should take Harry home. Lord Snape would be furious if he knew we'd come…let alone that Miss Brown knows about Harry."

"You're quite right," Remus agreed empathetically. "Though I don't doubt the lord has enough fury already."

It would have surprised the good doctor to learn that he was wrong about Lord Snape's disposition that very day. Lord Snape was not furious but rather annoyed.

Mr. Jonathan Whit did not come to Severus' home that first night as the lord had requested. Instead, he sent his apologies and a short missive explaining that he would arrive on the morrow. Under most circumstances, something like this would only prompt the lord into finding someone else to complete the task. Mr. Whit, however, was undoubtedly worth the extra bit of patience it would take to wait. Lucius Malfoy, the fourth Earl of Dunhaven, had suggested Mr. Whit to him to clear up a rather troublesome business matter some time ago. Mr. Whit was a former protégé of Sir John Fielding, otherwise known as the "Blind Beak of Bowstreet," and he had made a name for himself that would in time rival his mentor's. Lucius had used the man several times for various inquiries, and all were completed quickly and discreetly. Though Severus had not taken his friend's advice when it was first given, he was glad that he had held onto the man's card.

Severus spent the evening in the study. He refrained from calling it "his study" simply because he did not regard it as such. Victoria had been right when she had said that this house was not truly his. The townhouse had been part of Victoria's dowry, and he had never felt at ease within its walls. Slumped on a sofa with a book in his hand and a good brandy sitting on the end table, Severus had a restlessness building inside of himself that he couldn't place. He merely assumed being in this house had something to do with it.

It was just passed seven when Victoria strode into the room, wearing a ball gown fit for an empress. Jade silk became a suit of armor on her soft skin as the lady prepared to do battle. She held her head high. "I am going to a party at the Marquis Laurent's home, and I shan't be returning until quite late I'm afraid," she announced haughtily.

"And you require no escort?" he inquired simply to rile her.

Victoria played with her fan idly. "Why, my darling, I am quite sure that you would never attend such an event underdressed, and I do doubt that you packed anything formal in that tattered bag of yours." She smiled, so sure of her victory.

"Perhaps you should pen a note explaining _our _absence," Severus suggested with a look of vindication in his dark eyes.

"Really, Severus, you shouldn't punish me so. The Marquis has been a friend to me for some time. You shouldn't be so cruel."

Severus eyed his wife with disdain. "Go, but you shall return no later than midnight, coming straight from the party. You will at least play the faithful wife while I am here." 

Crystalline laughter rang through the air. "And will you be faithful, husband? Will you bed me, Severus? Get me with child before I am old and my hair is white?" 

"Allow me to escort you to the carriage," he said through clenched teeth. His finger wrapped around her arm so tightly that she let out a small cry. "Do not tempt me, Victoria," he warned into her ear.

He felt her tremble beneath his grasp, and for a moment he almost regretted his treatment of her. Her eyes were hard as stone when she met his gaze. "Tempt you? No, I haven't been able to do that in the decade I've known you. All I can do is raise your ire, for I've nothing to lose and nothing to gain from you. Would you lock me in some tower? Or have me flogged? Leave me to my world—I beg you—as I have left you to yours."

Severus helped Victoria into the carriage. "Good night, my lady."

"And the same to you, my lord," she whispered with the slightest nod.

It took every ounce of his restraint not to drag her from the carriage and wring her slender neck. Mostly because deep down, he knew that there was a kernel of truth to her words. He had disregarded her the moment they wed, and after a drunken attempt at lovemaking, he had left her bed cold. In truth, Severus could not fault her for being angry with him. Whatever her faults, he knew that he was not the sort of man a young woman would hope to wed. That night Severus was quite determined to do just as she had asked and leave her to her world of ball gowns and secret trysts.

In the morning, Victoria left early to spend the day with Lady Narcissa, and Severus was quite relieved. He had no intention of speaking to his wife for the remainder of his stay in London if he could avoid it.

Thankfully, Mr. Whit arrived precisely on time. Dobby announced the investigator's arrival in his usual nervous manner and received a stern look from the lord for his efforts.

Mr. Whit was the very image of mediocrity by appearance. He was in his forties, the lord assumed, and held himself ramrod straight. Graying brown hair and wrinkles at the corners of his eyes made him look weary, but there was an assertiveness to his brown gaze that made the man stand out from others Severus had known.

"My lord," Mr. Whit began with a bow, "it is a pleasure to make you acquaintance. I have heard much of you from His Grace, Lord Lucius."

Severus gave a small smile. "As I have heard much of you. The earl is not a man liberal with his praise, and I do not doubt that you will perform to my standards." The lord motioned for the investigator to be seated. "Would you care for a drink?" he offered politely.

"No, my lord," Whit demurred.

"Very well. I suppose that we should begin with the matter at hand."

By the time the meeting was through, Severus had given a most thorough account of every single thing that had happened since he had found Harry. Mr. Whit asked dozens of questions about things that Severus may have thought inconsequential until then. The man's attention to detail was nigh uncanny. Lord Snape was not a man who was easily impressed, but he could already see tiny bits of merit in his recent hire. He now believed that he could leave the matter in Mr. Whit's hands and rest easy in doing so.

Before he dismissed Mr. Whit, there was one more subject he wished to broach with the man. Severus leaned eagerly over the desk. "You must understand, Mr. Whit, that I want to make Dursley pay for what he has done to the boy. I will ask nothing illegal of you, but I won't hesitate to perhaps….push the bounds of morality and ethics if needed."

A ruthless smile transformed Mr. Whit's face. "My lord, do you think the earl has not asked such things of me in the past? I am willing see the job through so long as the payment is fitting. Now, I will not go as far as to murder a man nor commission his death, but if you want him ruined—that I can accomplish quite easily."

"Good," Severus said firmly. "Dursley deserves whatever Hell we can make for him. Begin immediately, if possible. I will give my solicitor instructions on our final agreement."

No sooner had Mr. Whit left than Victoria appeared in the study. Her face bore no signs of the previous night's argument, and she was once again dressed for an evening out.

"Going somewhere?" Severus asked with vague disinterest.

"I had thought to attend the opera with Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa, if you don't mind." Despite the pleasing phrasing and honeyed tone, she couldn't hide the contempt brimming beneath the surface.

"Go. Do as you wish, my dear," he told her plainly. Victoria said nothing nor did she move from her spot before the desk. She merely looked at him. Severus soon grew annoyed. "Was there more?" he demanded.

Victoria gave him a wry smile. "I meant what I said last night," she said finally.

Severus bit back a curse and rubbed his temples. "Which part exactly?"

"All of it," she replied matter-of-factly. "I guess what I am asking is: will you get me with child?"

In his thirty-seven years, Lord Severus Snape had thought that no man or woman could truly shock him. His wife had done just that. "And why would I do that?" he asked chocking on the words.

"Really, my lord, I would think siring an heir would be to your benefit." Victoria seated herself in on of the armchairs. "People are beginning to talk. Do you think I like being called barren? Or that I relish hearing how my reclusive husband hasn't the passion for me that he does for his plants?"

Disgust replaced the shock he had felt only a moment before. "You believe silencing the gossips is worth bringing a child—whom you have very little to no intention of caring for—into this world? The idea is revolting," he spat.

"I'm sure I would have some fondness for my own child," she retorted limply. "Doesn't the idea of being talked about like that bother you?"

"No," Severus replied very truthfully. He began to laugh. "Victoria, go to the opera and stop bothering me with such ridiculous notions. I will have none of it."

"Good night, dear husband," Victoria said through clenched teeth.

As Severus watched the retreating form of his wife, he couldn't help but be amazed by how absolutely self-involved the chit was. He had to wonder if Mrs. Dursley might not be more like his wife than he had thought earlier. Though he directed most of his hatred toward her husband, he had begun to wonder exactly how a woman—and a mother nonetheless—could send her own blood to be tortured in a stable. He doubted that Mrs. Dursley ever stepped foot in the stable, but there was simply no way she could be ignorant of the boy trapped inside. Was her world of silk and lace so irresistible that she could not spare her sister's son an ounce of charity? He was sure her answers would sicken him every bit as much as her husband's excuses had.

The only thing that Severus knew with any sort of certainty, at the moment, was that he would no longer be able to stay in London without risking murdering his wife. He would return to Spinner's End on the morrow and simply do a better job of avoiding Harry.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Fanning the Flames

Avoiding Harry was an impossible feat, Lord Snape soon found out. Upon returning to Spinner's End, Severus was greeted by none other than the boy in question as he barreled half-naked down the hall as though the hounds of Hell were at his heels. The boy thrust himself full force against Severus' chest and buried his face in the lord's shoulder. "Bloody Christ!" he swore as his fingers wrapped around Harry's slender arms.

Harry's eyes locked on Severus imploringly.

Severus sighed. "What trouble have you gotten into now?" he muttered.

"My lord, thank goodness you are here! Perhaps you can make him hold still!" Mrs. Figg cried. She gathered her skirts and moved as quickly as her short legs would carry her.

"Exactly what in heaven's name is going on here?" Severus roared.

The stunned housekeeper was soon joined by Miss Granger and another young woman. Miss Granger held out an unfinished garment. "We were only trying to get Harry properly fitted in new clothes," the impertinent nursemaid said with a hand upon her hip. "He seems to believe that we are about to torture him."

Severus managed to pry himself from Harry's grasp. His eyes fell to the shrinking form of the newcomer. "And just who might you be?"

The girl gave an awkward curtsy. "Lavender Brown, my lord." 

"And your purpose here?" he demanded.

"Really, my lord, what does it look like she's doing? Miss Brown has come to help Mrs. Figg and me get Harry in clothes that actually fit him properly." Hermione took Harry by the hand. "You shouldn't run off. We are making you new clothes," she told him slowly using exaggerated gestures.

Severus found himself amazed by how attentive Harry seemed to be. Though he made no sign that he understood, the boy was so obviously trying to comprehend what Miss Granger was telling him. Harry eventually frowned and pointed to the bit of fabric in Miss Brown's hands. "NUH!" he said firmly.

Now that had Severus completely taken aback. He had never heard Harry's attempted speech before, and it proved that (much to his chagrin) Miss Granger had not lied.

Miss Granger was quite oblivious to the pensive nobleman. "Miss Brown didn't mean to hurt you. If you would hold still, you wouldn't have to worry about the pins. Now, come along Harry."

When the women led Harry out of the hall, Severus simply stood there like a simpleton. How did things manage to change so damned quickly? He had been gone less than three days, and his house was in utter chaos once again. It felt as though Severus were being pulled in several directions at once. He was quite torn between strangling the nursemaid and screaming at the top of his lungs until the whole lot of them—the boy, the nurse, the housekeeper, and the seamstress—were running from his property. As it was, Severus settled for a brandy in his study. With Harry in residence, Severus was fast becoming a drunkard.

In the evening, Miss Granger appeared in his study. "My lord," she said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "might I have a word?"

"With you, Miss Granger, it is never just one word," he quipped. He rose and motioned for the girl to take a seat.

"Thank you," she replied as she sat. "You left before we could discuss how to educate Harry."

"I entrust Harry's education to your capable hands, Miss Granger. However, I do wish to discuss the seamstress. Miss…" Severus tried to recall the girl's name.

"Brown," Miss Granger supplied.

"Yes, Miss Brown. Exactly why did you feel the need to bring her here? I was under the impression that you understood the importance of keeping Harry's presence a secret. Why would you disobey me?" he asked sternly.

Miss Granger shrugged unrepentantly. "I took Harry to see Dr. Lupin. Though I don't think either of you were willfully negligent….I simply believed that Harry should be examined again. My acquaintance with Miss Brown is quite accidental, I assure you."

That night, the lord and the nursemaid formed a rather strange bond. They swapped bits of information and theories about the Dursleys and the boy in the rooms above. Miss Granger's thoughts did not differ much from Severus' own. Both were committed to seeing Vernon Dursley hanging from a noose of his own making. The bits of information Miss Granger had gleaned from Durlsey's former staff did not go unappreciated. She was much more astute than any other woman he had met—with perhaps the exception of his own mother. Severus was beginning to think that perhaps he would not even need Mr. Whit with this mere slip of a girl on his side. The pair began to formulate a plan that evening in the study.

When Lord Snape poured himself a brandy, he poured a slightly smaller amount into another glass. "I do believe this partnership deserves a celebration of sorts," he said with a mocking lilt to his words.

To his amazement, Miss Granger did not hesitate to accept the liquor. Instead she raised her glass to his and downed the drink without so much as a shudder. A proper lady would have swooned after such a strong indulgence. Miss Granger had again proven herself to be nothing like the women in Severus' experience.

Miss Granger set aside the glass. "My lord, there is one more matter I wish to discuss with you. Remus and I have discussed contacting a school for deaf children. Though I wish I could, I know that I cannot help Harry as they can."

"I will think about it," Severus replied curtly. "It seems that perhaps I should go visit Dr. Lupin in the morning."

When the household was abed and the last candle had been put out, Severus walked the halls like a specter. Though he was once again in his own home, he felt no more at ease than he had in London. The restlessness that haunted him had not subsided inside his own walls—if anything, it only deepened. He wished that he could plead ignorance. His life would be much simpler if he were not plagued by desire for the young man in his protection. As his journey continued, Severus' resolve to avoid Harry weakened. He soon found himself standing outside of the boy's door.

Severus no longer worried that his footsteps would wake Harry. He snuffed out the candle and stared at the lad sleeping in the moonlight. God, the sight of him made Severus' loins harden! An unwelcome urge to reach out and touch the boy seized him. Before he could stop himself, his fingertips grazed against Harry's forehead as he pushed at the raven black strands covering his face. Severus didn't dare breathe. What had he done? Harry's eyes fluttered open, and Severus was greeted by a very sleepy smile. The wise thing to do would have been to turn and leave, but Severus was not longer a wise man. Lord Severus Snape was the greatest fool ever born. As if he were frozen to the floor, he simply stood there staring Harry.

Harry moved with a graceful innocence as he shed the covers. It took naught but an instant to realize that he wore no dressing gown. Severus' mouth went dry as he took in the pale, albeit scarred shoulders and slender arms. In a moment of clarity, he managed to secure the sheet about Harry's waist. Sadly, the process of keeping Harry somewhat covered forced him to settle himself on the bed. Harry moved in like a hawk, taking advantaged of their closeness. The boy wrapped himself around Severus.

"Bloody Christ! You will be the death of me!" Severus swore.

Pulling back just a bit, Harry worked his hand between them and rested it upon Severus' throat. His eyes looked up at the lord imploringly. "I am sorry, Harry," Severus said shaking his head. "I don't know what you want." 

Amazingly, the simple words were met by a blinding smile. Harry bit his lip intently and moved his fingers across Severus throat. Only then did occur to the lord what the boy was doing. He was feeling the vibrations produced by Severus speech. "You are trying to make sense of it, aren't you?" Severus asked allowing the boy to continue his exploration.

Harry brought his hand to his own throat and began making simple, guttural noises. All Severus could do was stare. After each attempt, Harry would frown and cast Severus a frustrated glance. Harry was trying to learn to speak. It took a few more tries before the boy gave up, wrapping himself around Severus once more.

Guilt—that feeling that never left him these days—ate at him. "I must admit that I am truly a sad excuse for a scholar having thought you to be simpleminded," Severus told him. "I've been so busy with my own depravity that I never paused to think that you could wish for more. But you know what you've lost, don't you? I wonder if you truly remember what it was to be able to hear? To speak?" 

Harry's shoulders trembled in Severus' grasp. A ragged sob tore through him as he looked up at the lord with tears falling from his perfect emerald eyes. In an uncharacteristically soft gesture, Severus brushed away the tears. "I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to make this right." 

In years to come, Lord Snape would replay what happened next in his mind. He never did pinpoint exactly when Harry moved, exactly when their lips met. All he could remember was the simple perfection of the feeling. Harry's kiss was intoxicating. At first, Harry kept his lips closed. It was the kind of kiss that one gave to one sister. Severus, however, wanted more. He was not satisfied with a chaste kiss. His tongue forced apart Harry's lips, and before long they were entangled in a moment so erotic that it nearly brought Severus to his knees. Harry was a fast learner. He soon turned the tables on the lord, dominating nearly as much as Severus had only split seconds earlier.

Finally, Severus managed to regain his senses. He pulled away from Harry. "Enough," he rasped. "I have no intention of holding you to something that you cannot understand." Harry tried to reach after him, but Severus pulled back even farther. Severus held up his hands, willing Harry to stay where he was. "You are not safe near me, and someday you will realize that."

Not long after dawn, Severus strode into the stable, demanding that Hades be saddled. The stallion was the color of midnight with not a speck of white to break up the perfect black of his coat. He had been told once that a pure black horse was an ill omen, but he had dismissed the foolishness immediately. Hades was of the finest bloodline Tattersall's had to offer. He had been Severus' one extravagant indulgence after his marriage. There had been something about the animal's disposition that Severus liked. Racing across the hills of his ancestral land, Severus was ever glad of his purchase. Horse and rider moved in perfect unison at a break-neck speed. It was almost as if Hades understood that his master was trying to outrun his own emotions.

Severus rode for nearly an hour before he was ready to make his way to Dr. Lupin's home. Though Severus had never been to the physician's home, he had been keenly aware of its location for some time. In a moment of vindictiveness, he had almost considered telling the old doctor that he would pay him triple what Lupin could so that his former lover would be forced to go elsewhere. The cottage was just shy of his property.

As Severus approached, a man who had passed ancient by at least a century appeared from the barn. He lifted a shaking hand to shield his eyes from the earlier morning sun. "Good day, mi'lord. Is there somethin', ol' Jasper can help ye with?" he asked, bowing as low as his gnarled spine would allow.

"I am here to see the doctor. Take my mount to the stable and see that he is well cared for," Severus ordered. He handed Jasper the reigns.

As he turned to go, he heard a low chuckle from the old man. Severus eyed the old man curiously. "Is there something amiss?"

Jasper shook his head. "Nothin' amiss, mi'lord. Just ol' memories. Why I remember when ye were naught but a boy as high as my knee! A fine man you turned out to be, if ye don't mind me sayin'."

It took a moment, but he eventually recalled Jasper—in his much younger years—tending to his wastrel father's horses. If memory served, Jasper had always been kind to him. Jasper had been sacked when Severus was away at school, and he had not given the stableman a thought afterward.

"It has been many years, Jasper," Severus said in way of apology.

"That it has, mi'lord," the old man agreed. "I will see to yer mount."

"Thank you," the lord replied stiffly before going to the house.

He was led into the dinning room where he found Lupin drinking his tea. The doctor stood as soon as he saw Severus enter. "Good morning, my lord. What brings you here at such an earlier hour?" Lupin asked with a kind smile.

Severus remained silent for a moment while the housekeeper left the room. With a predatory growl, he crossed the space between them in but three steps. He didn't give Lupin a chance to refuse as he captured the smaller man in a bruising kiss. Remus' kisses used to make Severus weak. They used to make him forget everything. This kiss was nothing like that—which could be largely due to the fact that Lupin was struggling against him. With a harsh shove, Dr. Lupin sent the lord back.

"Are you mad?" the physician cried.

"More than you could possibly realize," Severus mumbled. "But for this—no, I am not. The kiss was but an experiment."

"You could have warned me." Lupin dropped back into his chair haphazardly. He gave Severus a sad glance. "You and I both know that time between us has passed."

Severus gave a curt nod. "I do. I apologize for my behavior. There is no excuse for it."

Lupin sat up straight in his chair. "By God! You're in love!" he cried

"I should have known better than to come here. With all your ridiculously feminine thoughts, it is a wonder that you haven't a—" Severus began to rage.

Of all things, Remus Lupin began at that precise moment to laugh. He shook his head and brushed away tears of amusement. "So that was where you went in London," he said thoughtfully. "I knew in my gut that you must have been seeking something there that you haven't here."

It was quite amazing how one could be so right and yet so very—and moronically—wrong at the same time. Severus was still seething with anger, but he decided that it was best to allow Lupin his womanish notions of romance. It would serve no purpose for him to see that Severus was in lust with a deaf boy half his age.

Severus clenched his teeth. "This is not what I intended to discuss with you, Lupin."

"So this visit wasn't for the sole purpose of accosting me?" Lupin quipped with unusual snark.

"Touché, doctor," Severus murmured. "I came to discuss this school you told Miss Granger about."

"Oh, yes. I had hoped that you would consider it. Hogwarts is a well run institution. They take in children who would otherwise have no place to turn to for education…not to mention providing other necessities. The headmaster is quite dedicated—despite being rather eccentric—and the staff is very capable." Lupin went on to detail the schools numerous charitable endeavors before Severus stopped him.

"Do you believe they can help Harry?" Severus asked plainly.

"I do," the doctor replied earnestly.

"Contact the headmaster. Promise him whatever ridiculous sum it will take to have him send his finest tutor to Spinner's End." With those words, Lord Snape turned on his heel and left a very befuddled Dr. Lupin behind.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Wicked Ways

It was not uncommon for Severus to encounter someone that he did not like—for he held an amount of disdain for nearly everyone in his acquaintance—however, it was uncommon for him to dislike someone as thoroughly as he did Albus Dumbledore before he had even met the man. Why, how dare the man turn down a lucrative offer and demand that Severus pack up Harry and bring the boy to London! No matter how adamantly he argued that it was best Harry remain at Spinner's End, Dumbledore remained ever steadfast in his addlebrained plan to educate the boy in London. Were it not for Lupin's insistence that Dumbledore was a brilliant educator, Severus would have let the old fool know in no uncertain terms that he did not care for being ordered about. In the end, he had given in only for Harry's sake.

Traveling to London was not something to be taken lightly. Though the Dursleys had made no move to reclaim Harry, it was doubtful that they were simply going to allow Severus to have the boy without a fight. If what he had learned thus far was correct, it would stand to reason that there was a great sum of money involved. Severus was taking no chances. He had instructed Lupin to list the child's name as "Harold Figg" for the time being and request that Dumbledore keep his silence about the boy. Also, there was the matter of where Harry and the rest of the entourage would reside. Taking them to his London residence was not a wise move. He did question what Victoria would do if she were in any way involved, and he did not trust his wife. In the end, Severus had purchased a modest townhouse. Hermione would act as mistress of the house, and no one would be the wiser to Severus' involvement. All in all, it was a dreadful amount of work, and that did not even include the most trying part of the ordeal.

Harry did not like the idea of leaving Spinner's End. The boy had thrown himself into a fine display of stubborn, childish hysterics when Seamus had begun packing. Harry ripped his clothing from the valise quicker than the manservant could get them in it. Even Hermione could not get him to settle down. The boy was well and truly angry—an emotion that had shown through quite eloquently as Severus was forced to carry him out of the room like a sack of grain trussed over his shoulder. He had expected Harry to draw away in fear, but instead was treated to a green-eyed glare that would have rivaled even his own.

By the time Severus was seated in the headmaster's office alongside Lupin, it was easy to see that he really and truly did hate Dumbledore. The bespectacled old man had arrived nearly ten minutes late for his own meeting and had the gall to begin not with an apology but by offering the lord a lemon drop.

"Lord Snape," Dumbledore began after the introductions were made, "I do have quite a few questions in regard to your demand for secrecy. I will not allow you to make a mockery of this school, my lord."

Lupin shot Severus a look. He obviously trusted the headmaster and thought Severus should do the same. For some unknown reason, Severus found himself relying on the physician's judgment. "Harry's story is not a particularly happy tale," he began solemnly. "You must swear your absolute silence on this matter. I don't doubt that Harry's life may be in danger if you do not."

"You do not strike me as a man to say such things without a very firm reason," the old man observed.

"He is not," Lupin agreed. "In fact, Lord Snape and I have both seen what kind of atrocities the boy has already survived. Albus, I implore you: listen to Lord Snape."

A bit of the twinkle left the headmaster's blue eyes, and he set aside his half-moon spectacles. He motioned for Severus to begin. By the end of his story, Dumbledore looked quite saddened, though unsurprised.

"I wish that I could say I had never heard a tale of abuse upon a deaf child such as this," he said, shaking his head. "However, if there is greed involved, I do agree that an evil man will go to near any lengths. You are quite right to keep this to yourselves. I swear that I shall tell no one—not even my staff."

"Surely you see why I must ask that Harry receive his lessons in private," Severus pointed out. "Keeping Harry at Spinner's End would have been a much better solution."

Dumbledore did not seem to mind Severus' abrasive nature. "My lord, do you have any idea how intensive teaching language to someone who has none can be? Harry is already to a point where I highly doubt he will ever progress as far as he might have. I am almost certain—if he is truly attentive as you say—that we can help him, but how much remains to be seen. He will require a very large portion of time from the teachers here, and mind you, we haven't enough of those as it is. I simply cannot send my best professors off to Richmond to remain at your residence. That said, I do believe we will be able to arrange some sort of schedule."

"Very well," Severus said finally. "When can they begin?"

"Tomorrow. I shall send one of my best teachers and a young man on his way to becoming one." Dumbledore stood behind his desk. "I should like to meet this boy, as well. If you've no objections, I might come along."

"None," Severus assured him. "I do thank you for your time."

Severus felt only slightly better about the situation as he left the school. Despite Dumbledore's words and Lupin's assurances, he was uncomfortable having Harry in London. So uncomfortable, in fact, that he had brought along two of the burliest groomsmen from his estate for the sole purpose of keeping a watchful eye on the house.

As the carriage lurched to a halt before the newly acquired townhouse, Severus noticed Harry's form in one of the windows. Even from a distance, he could see the wonderment on the boy's features as he watched the carriages passing by on the street below. When he finally noticed Severus, Harry waved excitedly. As usual, he knew nothing of the turmoil and tension around him. How could he know? Soon, though, he would understand everything, and god be with them when that day came.

Hermione met Severus the very moment he passed through the door. "What did the headmaster say?" she asked wringing her hands.

"They will be here tomorrow afternoon. Do what you can to see that Harry is on his best behavior. Remus is already on his way home, and I shall be spending the majority of my time with my wife. You are to remain in charge here. While Dumbledore knows the truth, we have agreed that his staff shall know nothing of Harry's true identity. You will stick to the story we practiced. Is that clear?" he demanded.

Miss Granger nodded. "Will you not be here at all?"

"Very little," Severus replied shortly. "I will stop in tomorrow night if I have a chance." He straightened his jacket. "Good day, Miss Granger."

Her eyes widened. "You mean that you aren't even going to visit Harry?"

"That is exactly what I mean. There is simply no point in it," he said.

Unfortunately his answer only infuriated the nursemaid. "How can you be so uncaring? Harry absolutely adores you, and you've rarely spent an hour with him in the past two weeks. I can tell he misses you. Why are you ignoring him?"

"I am not Harry's father, Miss Granger. I will not give him the false impression that I care for him more than for his well being. Now, again, Miss Granger—Good day."

Severus didn't wait to hear what impassioned reply the young miss would have for him. He doubted he could stomach it. After all, he had his dear wife to look forward to that same day.

Luckily, when he did arrive at his Governor's Square home, he found that Victoria had gone to a country party with the Malfoys and would not return for three days. He was quite thankful for the reprieve, but that did not solve all of his problems. Feeling the need for some kind of release, Severus set out that night not long after finding Victoria gone. Again, he was about to take the advice of Lucius Malfoy.

Madame Delacour's was a luxurious haven for any man of substantial means and an appetite for all manners of sexual pleasure. There were many members of the ton who found their desires within Madame Delacour's chambers. Severus was taken by surprise by the sheer elegance of the house as he stepped through the door. He was so busy admiring the chandelier above that he almost failed to notice the scantily clad young woman coming to greet him.

Naked to the waist and wearing nothing more than a gossamer wrap and a pair of silk stockings, she curtseyed primly. "Good evening, my lord. I am Hannah. Might I assist you?" she asked in a throaty voice.

Taking a card from his pocket, he handed it to her. "I require a word with Madame Delacour."

"Very well. If you would please wait here, I will go see if Madame has time for you this evening," came the practiced reply.

Severus sneered at her as her form retreated up the polished stairs. He spotted a few near-naked women coming and going from room to room, as well as a few gentlemen. One patron was decidedly familiar to Severus as he spotted him on the arm of a fetching brunette.

"Lord Snape, old man, so very good to see you," a drunken Sir Barnaby Thomas slurred enthusiastically.

Severus gave a curt nod in way of greeting. "Sir Barnaby."

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you here before, Snape," the idiot blathered on. "I assure you, you will find whatever kind of woman you fancy here." He gave the brunette a squeeze. "Can't have little Liza tonight though, I'm afraid."

"I am crushed at the mere thought," Severus drawled.

Liza seemed to think that she had found herself a new patron and batted her eyes seductively. "There is always tomorrow night, my lord," she simpered

Just in time, Severus spotted Hannah making her way down the stairs. "Madame Delacour will see you now," she announced.

Sir Barnaby's eyes widened. "You must be paying a bloody fortune for that!" 

"Good evening," Severus replied as he began up the stairs.

Madame Delacour's private salon was exquisitely appointed. Rich Persian rugs lined the floor, and the gilded glitter of gold was all about the room. Madame Delacour herself was no less pleasing to the eye. Her simple silk robe fell about creamy shoulders and was in contrast to her ornately arranged silvery hair.

"Lord Snape, I am quite 'appy to make your acquaintance. Eet iz an honor to 'ave a man of your stature in my 'umble establishment," the madame purred seductively. Even though all of the brazenness of her attire, it was obvious that Madame Delacour had come from noble blood. It was whispered that Madame Delacour's whole family had been executed on the guillotine and that she had only been spared because of her "talents." Though they may disdain all things French, many an English blue blood had offered her a fortune to use those very same charms as his mistress. Refusing one and all, she had set about creating one of the finest pleasure houses the whole of Britain had to offer.

Severus was not in the mood for games. "I have been told that you cater to all tastes. Is this true, madame?"

The blonde's eyes lit up. "I 'ave something for everyone. Tell me, mon chèr, what are your desires?"

"I prefer men." 

"Zhat is simple enough, but you want more zhan just a man, non?" she suggested with a laugh. "I zhink you know exactly what you would like."

"I wish to see what you have," Severus said, willing away the urge to ask for a dark haired innocent with green eyes. Yes, Madame Delacour was quite right when she assumed that he knew what he would want. By God, he knew what he wanted!

"As you wish, my lord," she agreed. Madame Delacour clapped her hands, and a young woman, who bore a striking resemblance to the madame, entered the room. "Gabrielle, fetche les hommes pour moi."

The younger woman bowed. "Oui."

"My lord, please allow me to take you to zhe parlor."

Severus followed Madame Delacour to a room just down the hall. A velvet lined settee and a chilled bottle of champagne were waiting for them. Along the end of the room, a red curtain hung from floor to ceiling with two young women at either end. Pouring two glasses of the sparkling liquid, Madame Delacour invited him to sit.

"I do not bring jus' anyone 'ere, Lord Snape. Zhis is my private viewing room. what iz behind zhat curtain will not be bought cheaply. Do you understand?" she asked as she handed him a glass.

Severus sneered. "If you fulfill my requirements, I am more than willing to pay."

The answer seemed to satisfy her, and she motioned for the girls to open the curtain. What lay behind the folds of crimson fabric was nothing less than an erotic fantasy. Eleven men, ranging from sixteen to thirty, from the fairest blonde to the most exotic brunette stood in all stages of dishabille. Some wore rouge and powder, giving them a feminine look, while others dressed in black breeches and unbuttoned shirtsleeves, showcasing masculine physiques. The rumors were true: Madame Delacour did have something for every desire. Severus set aside his glass and moved toward the "merchandise." He studied each one carefully, dismissing those he did not find appealing. First went the painted beauties and then the blondes. He was nearly ready to give up when he saw exactly what he was looking for.

The young man could have passed for Harry's brother, the resemblance was so great. Petite of stature and fair skinned, Severus nearly missed him as he examined the other men, but as soon as he spotted the boy, all the others no longer matted. This young man had the same delicateness about his features and the same messy black hair. Severus put a finger beneath the boy's chin. "Let me see your eyes."

Sadly, the eyes that stared back at him were not green at all, but a light golden brown. "Do you like what see, my lord?" he asked in quiet cultured tones.

"I would like to employ this boy's nightly services until farther notice. During this time, I am willing to pay to ensure that I am the only client he sees," Severus stated plainly. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Madame Delacour.

Madame Delacour's eyes widened as she looked over the bank draft. "For zhis amount you could 'ave 'ad all of mes hommes, my lord," she said in an amused voice. "Very well. Gabrielle will take you to zhe finest chamber we 'ave, and ee will meet you zhere."

Gabrielle took him to yet another door. "My lord, next time you arrive, simply ask for me, and I will see to whatever you require."

Behind the door, the young man was waiting for him. He had already shed his shirt revealing a porcelain-skinned chest that bore no signs of manhood. Moving like a cat, he spread out on the bed, offering the lord the best view of what he had purchased. "I was hoping you would pick me, my lord," he said huskily. "My name is Daniel."

Severus regarded the boy critically. There was something that didn't fit with his fantasy, and he instantly knew what it was. Removing his coat and tossing it upon a chair, Severus motioned for the boy to come to him. When mere inches separated them, Severus moved his fingers to Daniel's hair. "I assume that your other clients have had requests for you in the past."

Daniel nodded. "I am yours to command, my lord."

"Good," Severus murmured. Again, he wished that Daniel's eyes had been green. "After tonight, I wish for you never to speak in my presence again."

"I must say that is one that I have never heard before. You wish for my silence when we are in bed?" Daniel asked with raised eyebrows.

"No. Make whatever sounds you wish, but do not speak. Also, I want you dressed when I arrive. Do you remember what it was to be an innocent?" the lord asked provocatively.

Daniel laughed. "Vaguely, but I do believe that if it is the illusion of innocence that you require that I can be what you wish."

"How old are you?" Severus asked. Though youthful looking, there was a maturity about Daniel that was almost startling. In comparison to Harry's, Daniel's eyes made him seem to be ancient.

"Twenty-two. Is that problem, my lord?"

Severus shook his head.

Sitting up, Daniel moved his hands boldly to Severus cravat and began undoing the knot. "What do you wish of me tonight, my lord?"

A wolf like grin spread across Severus' face. "For tonight show me that you are not innocent."

And Daniel did just that. His mouth and fingers were equally skilled. It was obvious that he saw love making as more of an art than a necessity. He was far more talented in bed than Lockhart had ever been. Were it not for the image of emerald eyes in his mind, he did not doubt that he would have been taken to the heights of ecstasy. How was it that Harry should seem more erotic than Daniel could ever?


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Fish and Figgs

Hermione felt utterly exhausted as she nearly collapsed onto her bed. Despite all of the preparations she and Lord Snape had made, she had not expected the amount of fuss and frustration moving to London would be. Hermione had never fancied herself the mistress of a bustling household. Not once in her twenty-two years had she imagined that she would be in charge of a staff of twelve. She could still see the lot of them—lined up before her—looking to her for their new assignments. The housekeeper, Mrs. Winkle, was a woman far too marked by worry and too lined by frowns who seemed ever worried that she would lose her place. On the other hand, the butler—who had been sent from Lord Snape's own household—Dobby was a small man with an eager to please smile and a misplaced sense of "helping." Between Mrs. Winkle's fretting over the unpolished brass and Dobby's insistence that he aid Hermione in every little task, Hermione was beginning to think that a woman must be mad to wish to have servants at all. It was a wonder they had made it through the day!

Harry's lack of cooperation did not help matters, either. He may not yet have the means to communicate fully, but there was no doubt that Harry was quite angry about being moved. In a fit of rebellion, Harry ardently had refused to eat both the luncheon and supper that had been set before him. He had spent most of the day on his new bed with his hatbox.

"Will you need anything else, Mrs. Figg?"

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "What? 

"Will you need anything else?" the young lady's maid repeated patiently.

"Oh, no. Thank you, Susan. Good night," Hermione murmured. Susan curtsied and left the room

Feeling only slightly more at ease, Hermione sunk into the divinely soft mattress even farther. She had yet to grow accustomed to being called "Mrs. Figg," especially with the real Mrs. Figg awaiting news in Richmond. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but Hermione was beginning to doubt her ability to have people believing that she was a wealthy widow. After one day as head of a house, Hermione—for all her education and wit—was nearly done in. She missed her days as a librarian. They had been such lovely days of nothing but quiet and endless books.

Hermione woke with a renewed sense of purpose the next morning. Today, Harry's new teachers would arrive, and she must be at her very best. She dressed in a fashionable blue gown—one that she would never have dreamed of wearing were it not for the lord's insistence that she play the role—and began arranging her hair.

"Why, mistress, I didn't know you were about yet!" Susan cried distressfully. The maid set aside the linens in her arms and rushed over the dressing table. She clucked her tongue as she admired Hermione's work. "Oh, dear, it's already a mess."

"Oh, it's nothing, Susan. Just fix it if you can," Hermione replied, trying desperately to act as though having someone do her hair was something she was accustomed to.

In the end, Hermione decided that she very easily could get used to having someone do her hair. Her usually unruly tresses were artfully piled atop her head with little ringlets escaping around her face. Susan had even woven ribbons into the coiffure to match her dress. Hermione could not remember ever looking as lovely as she did right then. Oh, that did not mean she was a raving beauty, but she did look vastly different.

"Well, mistress, will it do?" Susan asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered softly. She really did hate having to put on such a blasé act, but there was no way around it. Looking away from the mirror, Hermione frowned. "Has Seamus seen to Harry yet?"

"I believe so." Susan let out a little giggle. "I know that Master Harry was already begging sweets from Cook this morning. If you don't mind me saying so, mistress, he certainly has a way of getting his point across without a word."

Indeed, Harry did have a way of letting people know what he wanted. Hermione found him with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet tucked beneath him as Seamus tried to put shoes on him. Harry's petulance almost made Hermione smile—though she knew she should not reward such behavior. At times, it was hard to remember that Harry was not a small child. Oh, it was going to be so much easier to deal with his spells when she could reason with the boy. As it was, Hermione could only cast him a glance and pick up one shoe. Harry wrinkled his nose but did let Seamus finish the job.

It was late in the morning by the time Hermione managed to get Harry to come explore the new house with her. His stubborn streak subsided when he realized that there were new things to see. The enclosed courtyard kept his interest for nearly half an hour after he found a tiny frog swimming about in the fountain. Hermione watched as he dipped his hand into the still waters, and the frog darted away. He pointed at the frightened creature questioningly. With no way to explain, Hermione shrugged. Harry frowned, but seemed to accept her inability to communicate with him.

"Mrs. Figg," Dobby called softly from the walkway. "There is a Miss McGonagall and a Mr. Weasley here to see you, madam. They are apparently here to see about your cousin's education."

Hermione shot up and began straightening her skirts. She had to bite back the urge to go racing through the house like an errant child. "Please, show them to the drawing room, Dobby," Hermione said lightly. "Oh, and have Seamus come sit with Harry for a bit."

With her heart beating wildly, Hermione made a slow trip to the drawing room. A constant reminder to play her part ran through her head with each step. So much was at stake for Harry. Taking a deep breath, Hermione pasted on a serene smile and readied herself to meet her guests.

As Hermione took her first look at the people who were going to teach Harry, her eyes were immediately drawn to the elegant movements of their hands as they spoke ever so quietly—both aloud and through gesture. Though she knew it was rude to stare, she was caught by how graceful their fingers were. Remus had not lied when he had said that there was a beauty to the language. The woman was—from what Hermione could see—thin with dark hair pulled into a severe knot. Miss McGonagall reminded Hermione ever so much of the school matrons who had taught her as a child. Hermione could see very little of Mr. Weasley. In fact, all she could discern of him was that he was a quite tall man with outrageously long red hair tied into an unfashionable queue.

It took nearly a full minute, but Hermione did manage to find her voice. "Hello," she said, trying to appear dignified. "I am so glad that you have come. My name is Hermione Figg, and Harry is my cousin."

Miss McGonagall turned first. Her features betrayed nothing as she gave the younger woman a slight nod. "Mrs. Figg. I am Minerva McGonagall, and this is William Weasley. Unfortunately, Headmaster Dumbledore was unable to come this afternoon." As she spoke, Miss McGonagall's hands moved expertly forming each word.

"Well, I do understand Professor Dumbledore's absence. I am certain that you all must have a great deal of responsibility, and I am quite grateful that you have taken the time to come. I daresay that I am ill equipped to make any sort of real progress with Harry." She was rambling and she knew it—a point made ever so more pronounced by Miss McGonagall's constant gestures. Hermione felt like a cat being tossed into a pond. In her somewhat out-of-sorts state, Hermione was not nearly as astute as she usually was, for she did not connect the significance of Miss McGonagall's signing nearly as quickly as she should have. When it finally did dawn on her that Miss McGonagall was translating what was being said for Mr. Weasley's benefit, Hermione's eyes flew to the gentleman's face for the first time.

If Hermione had hoped to find any kind of reprieve by gazing at Mr. Weasley's visage, she was to be let down. Mr. Weasley's face had all of the makings of a rakish sort of handsomeness. His features were strong, his lips curved into a charming albeit self-deprecating smile, and his deep blue eyes were nothing short of stunning. However, all of his good looks were quite ruined by the vicious scars covering the left half of his face. Puckered and discolored, the marks did cause Hermione to wince. Instantly Hermione's cheeks began to redden. First, she had stared at new language they had been using—his language—and then she had made a right fool of herself by staring at his face. She couldn't have blamed Mr. Weasley if he had turned on his heel and walked out, but he didn't.

Mr. Weasley's smiled stayed firmly in place. "We are quite happy to help in whatever way we can, madam," he said a bit softly. His voice was clear and refined, despite his deafness, and it caught Hermione off guard.

"Thank you," she managed to say, still reeling in her embarrassment.

Thankfully, Miss McGonagall spared Hermione the opportunity to sink lower into discomfort. "Mrs. Figg, I do hope you forgive my bluntness, but we have much to do. Perhaps you could tell us how young Harry ended up in such a dire state?"

Hermione settled herself onto the settee and began to tell the tale that she and Lord Snape had concocted. The words fell from her lips so easily, but she couldn't tell if the pair seated across from her believed them. She told them that she had not known of Harry's existence, as he was a very, very distant relation. In her version, it had been her dear Aunt Arabella who had come to find Harry and that she had only kept the boy at Spinner's End until Hermione could collect the boy. Oh dear, the story was quite a mess! Somehow, she managed to get it all out.

Miss McGonagall and Mr. Weasley shared a look that Hermione couldn't read. Finally, Miss McGonagall nodded sadly. "I do believe that the headmaster was right—we probably can help Harry. The fact that he had normal language skills until his sickness and imprisonment is encouraging."

"But before we commit to teaching Harry, you must be willing to make a commitment, as well. You must be willing to learn to sign, as well," Mr. Weasley said gravely. "I feel obligated to warn you that it may not come as quickly to you as you may assume."

Hermione felt her pride rising. "You will find, Mr. Weasley, that I am an apt pupil."

A mischievous twinkle came to Mr. Weasley's eyes. "I do not doubt that, ma'am."

After their time in the parlor, Miss McGonagall and Mr. Weasley were ready to meet Harry. The boy, on the other hand, was less than ready to make their acquaintance. Harry did not wish to leave the courtyard. Dobby was rather red-faced when he returned empty handed, but Miss McGonagall was undaunted. The matron simply asked for directions and excused herself. When Hermione moved to follow, Mr. Weasley stopped her.

"I have never known Minerva to fail with a student. Let her do what she needs to do," he instructed, motioning that she should remain seating.

Unsure if he could understand her if she spoke, Hermione simply nodded.

"I am not completely deaf," he said as though he had read her mind—or at least the thoughts written on her face. "Also, if you speak clearly and make sure that I can see your lips clearly, I can read your lips."

Hermione relaxed a bit. "You must forgive me," she told him sincerely. "I have never known a deaf person aside from Harry."

Mr. Weasley gave an understanding smile. "Nor had I, until I lost my hearing."

"Might I ask how?" Hermione asked. Her cheeks once more flooded with color as she regretted her question.

"I was gravely injured at the Battle of Waterloo. My wounds gave way to a fever that destroyed my hearing as surely as the burns destroyed my face," he replied with only the tiniest trace of lament in his voice.

Hermione's heart ached for him. "It must have been terrible for you."

For the first time, Mr. Weasley's smile fell from his lips. "In the early days—please forgive my language—it was hell. You cannot possibly understand what it is like to be unable to communicate fully with those around you, to be trapped in silence. It was not until I met Minerva and Albus that I saw any hope in my situation. That is why I have dedicated myself to teaching. I want to give hope and a way to speak to those who have none."

Tears burned Hermione's eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Harry's rather unceremonious arrival.

In the entire time she had known Harry, Hermione had never seen him so happy or so excited. With one hand, he made a wavy motion. He repeated the gesture again and again before reaching out. The boy grabbed Hermione's hand and forced her to mimic his movements. Perplexed, Hermione could do little more than stare.

"Harry saw fish in the pond," Miss McGonagall provided with a satisfied grin. She made the same motion that Harry had. "Fish, Mrs. Figg."

At that moment, pure joy soared through Hermione. "Fish," she repeated beaming at Harry. It wasn't much, but it was the first step toward all that she had hoped for Harry's sake.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Vice

Severus pushed shiny, black strands from Harry's forehead and kissed his brow. The boy smiled at him shyly as he positioned himself in Severus' lap. Leaning back, Severus let out a low moan as Harry's delicate fingertips traced the lines of his jaw. Smiling impishly, Harry began to nibble on Severus' earlobe. Each tiny lick sent Severus to near climax, and they had yet to shed their clothing.

"Enough. You will have me looking quite the fool with soiled breeches if you do not stop," he said breathlessly. He began to gently unbutton Harry's shirt. A tiny sigh escaped Harry's lips, and Severus could feel the boy's hardness settled against his thigh. God, how he wanted to take him right there!

Letting out a tiny growl, Severus pushed Harry flat against the bed as he stripped him of his shirt. His lips ghosted down the pale flesh just above Harry's spine and then to his shoulders. Severus' tongue made a similar journey up Harry's neck until the younger man was quivering with desire. "Turn over," Severus commanded roughly.

Harry's eyes were closed as Severus kissed him hungrily. Moans escaped both men as Severus positioned himself against Harry's thigh. Tender touches elicited the exact reactions that Severus was searching for.

Suddenly, Harry let out a gasp and opened his eyes…Daniel's eyes. In that instant the illusion passed. Daniel reached to pull Severus into another kiss, but the lord pulled away. "That is enough for tonight, Daniel."

Severus watched as the whore fell back against his bed, disappointment written across his handsome face. For a brief second, he considered that Daniel had truly desired him, but then he dismissed it. He was—despite his recent foolishness—intelligent enough to know never to trust someone who sold his body. Dressing quickly, Severus strode from Daniel's room feeling only slightly less frustrated than before. In the two weeks he had been coming to see the young man, Severus had not been released from his torment as he had hoped. Instead, he was plagued by the ever-present knowledge that Daniel was a poor substitute for Severus' true desire.

His Hanover Square home was dark and silent when he arrived. Not even the servants were about. With Dobby's residing with Miss Granger and Harry, there was no one to badger him as he strode through the door. Severus took careful consideration to make not a sound as he made his way into his chambers. He was quite accustomed to seeing to his own needs and stripped his clothing quickly.

Biting back a fervent oath, Severus tugged at the covers. His manhood was ramrod straight to the point of pain. Despite his dire need for release, he refused to see to his own satisfaction. He knew whose face would be in his mind as he came. He knew who he would be picturing beneath him. It was all one big fantasy by now, and his resolve was fading by the day. Would the burning ache cease if he had his way with the boy? Would he be tempted to put a pistol to his brain afterward? The answers were so close within his grasp, but he hadn't the will to find them. Instead, he reached for the bottle of laudanum sitting on his bedside table.

Severus was in a right mood the next day. His caustic remarks sent the servants scurrying about the house like frightened mice, and not even Victoria dared challenge him. He spent the majority of the day sequestered in his study with some of the latest scientific journals and a bottle of brandy.

"So this is where the infamous Lord Snape has been hiding," a wry voice said from the doorway.

Eying Lucius Malfoy, the Earl of Dunhavan, Severus simply took another sip of his drink. "I hadn't thought you had it in you to be rude enough to simply appear like this, Lucius. Your wife must be beside herself."

Lord Lucius was a force to be reckoned with in London society. At five and forty, the earl was decidedly unmarked by time but not unmarked by dignity. He strode across the expensive rug with his elegant walking stick still in his grasp. For a brief moment, Severus considered that he would hit him with the thing. "You're a mess, Severus," he intoned plainly.

"So I've heard," Severus ground out. He had no doubt that Victoria had been carrying tales to Lady Narcissa.

"There has been talk that you are simply another fool caught in Madame Delacour's web, but I put little credence in such rumors. However, there has been talk of another kind," Lucius told him as he took a seat uninvited.

Severus looked away.

"I have heard," the earl continued, "through the service quarter that you have been going through a bottle of brandy a day and nearly as much laudanum in a week. From the look of you, _those _rumors are indeed true. You smell of the drink, and your eyes are shot. My god, Severus, what has you in such a state?"

For the first time since he had left without saying goodbye to Harry, Severus felt well and truly ashamed of himself. Perhaps, he was not being nearly as discreet as he had credit himself for. He sat up straight and attempted to right his cravat. "Thank you for bringing it to my attention," he said lamentably. "I will see to the state of things immediately." 

"You did not answer my question."

"No," Severus agreed. "Indeed, I did not. Nor do I have any plans to do so." 

Lucius leaned back. "Is it a woman or a man this time?

"I don't see why it matters." Severus let out a snort of distaste. As boys in school, Severus had made the drunken mistake of sharing his preferences with the son of an earl and earned a somewhat sideways friend for it. It was not unheard of for boys to dally with each other in the dormitories. Many a man's first encounter was not with a woman. Yet it was different for Severus, and that was the grand secret that Lucius now held. Though Lucius said nothing on the matter to signal that he disapproved, it was never far from Severus' mind that Lucius would actually use the information against him if need be.

"It doesn't," Lucius allowed. "Either way, have it out with your wench and be done. All of this sulking is not like you"

"I am seeing to it," Severus replied curtly. He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. "Did you come all of this way just to lecture me?"

Lucius smirked. "Would it appease you if I said no? Narcissa wanted to visit with Victoria, and I have a few other things I would like to discuss with you."

The two spent nearly an hour discussing their various business endeavors. Neither man was idle nobility. They had built most of their friendship on like-minded entrepreneurial ideals. As boys at Eton, Lucius had confided in Severus that he wanted to surpass his father's staggering wealth—a task that was not taken on lightly, to be sure. Severus, however, just hoped to put aside the shame that his degenerate father had brought upon the family. Over the years, both men had seen to their goals by coming to an agreement of sorts. Though not a dimwitted man by any standards, Severus did not have the knack nor the finesse for any real business pursuits and was quite comfortable allowing Lucius to make most of the decisions. Severus' part was best played when he signed for some of the deals that were seemingly below an earl.

After Lucius' departure, Severus pulled out a small stack of letters from his desk. Miss Granger had been sending him daily progress reports—without being asked to. At first, Severus had merely tossed them in the drawer, determined to push any thought of Harry from his mind, but he had soon fallen from his convictions. Severus had—quite pathetically—read each missive at least a dozen times over. He began shuffling through them once more.

_May __7,__ 1828 _

_Lord Snape,_

_I must admit that I am still very disappointed that you will not be around to see Harry's achievements in person, but I have decided to refrain from commenting overmuch on the subject. __I assure you that it, in and of itself, is no small endeavor. __However, I cannot believe that you would not wish to know how Harry is progressing, and to that end, I have chosen to write you. _

_Miss McGonagall and Mr. Weasley arrived today. I must admit to being pleasantly surprised by them. Miss McGonagall is not an easy taskmaster. She is quite efficient and has an amazing way of keeping Harry contained. I have not yet seen Mr. Weasley at work. He does seem to be a kind and attentive man. I was saddened to learn that he had lost his hearing in the war, but he has gained a purpose from the loss. _

_Harry did not have much of a lesson today. After learning the gesture for "fish," he seemed to lose interest. Miss McGonagall says that it isn't uncommon for those in Harry's situation to think that signing is a game at first. She assures me that he will soon get the right of it and that he will be a more willing pupil after that. _

_With sincerest wishes,_

_Miss H. Granger_

_May __9,__ 1828_

_Lord Snape,_

_I am pleased to say that Miss McGonagall was quite right: Harry has finally realized that what we are showing him is more than a simple game. I daresay, you should have seen the look in his eyes when he finally figured it all out. I have never seen such enthusiasm. He is now quite insatiable, demanding a sign for everything he sees. I do not doubt that he has a long road ahead of him, but I am now quite confident that it will not be a road walked in vain._

_With sincerest wishes,_

_Miss H. Granger_

_May 14, 1828_

_Lord Snape,_

_I am pleased to tell you that Harry is making splendid strides. Why, this morning Harry was able to ask me for more bacon! It seems such a trivial thing, but it means so very much. Harry also asked if he could visit the horses in the stable. Though we have not yet had been able to enjoy a true conversation, I am hopeful that we will soon enough._

_May 17, 1828_

_Lord Snape,_

_Harry has become quite saddened of late. Nothing has happened as far as I can tell, and Harry is still not able to really express anything too complicated. Though he has not slacked in his lessons, it is obvious that his mood has affected his learning. Miss McGonagall tried to use this as an opportunity to try and teach Harry how to convey feelings in sign but was only able to frustrate the poor boy._

_With sincerest wishes,_

_Miss H. Granger_

_May 20, 1828_

_Lord Snape,_

_I wish you would visit. Harry is improving quickly. You would be pleased to see how far he's come. Though not fully educated, he has already taken steps toward becoming quite a gentleman. He follows instructions well and no longer wanders like a lost lamb. In fact, there are times when he is barely recognizable as the boy I first met. Now, Harry and I are able to communicate in basic terms. He tells me when he is hungry, when he wishes to rest, what he wants to do for the day, and asks questions—though I am not always able to answer. He asks where you are. Harry misses you. _

_With sincerest wishes,_

_Miss H. Granger_

Severus refolded the letters and tucked them safely away once more. If only he was not so enraptured by the boy, he would have undoubtedly come to visit. Were he completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that he had missed Harry, as well. There in lay the quandary: Severus was not about to let himself be tempted again, but he did hate disappointing the boy. He had no way of explaining his absence to either Miss Granger or Harry. In short, he was trapped in an exile of his own making.

Two days passed after Lucius' visit, and Severus had touched neither brandy nor laudanum. He spirits were decidedly low, but at least he was no longer making a drunkard of himself. Victoria had even been bold enough to comment on his restraint. It seemed she too had been concerned about his consumption. However, those mere two days had passed slowly. Severus couldn't help but feel the old, restless guilt building inside of him. Without the support of his vices, he became weary quickly. On the dawn of the third day, Severus finally decided to visit Harry.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14: The Sweetest Thing

Chapter 14: The Stranger

Severus had always valued discretion above all else. He preferred to slip through the world beneath a veil of anonymity—a feat rarely attempted and even more rarely accomplished by any peer. Victoria, however, relished the attention of the glittering masses, and it seemed her wishes prevailed. Given his recent connection with the notorious Madame Delacour, Severus was not about to give the gossipmongers any more reason to whisper behind their fans. For that reason, he decided it best to make his visit during the acceptable hours and arrive in his own marked coach. Though a few of the most dedicated matrons would raise a brow at the notion of an honorable and wealthy baron making a call upon an utterly obscure "widow," it would require less attention than if he were to arrive at midnight in a hired hack. How he hated London!

Upon arrival, he had been told that both "Mrs. Figg" and "Master Harry" were in their lessons and not to be disturbed. Sitting in the drawing room like some uninvited guest in a house that he secretly owned was somewhat irksome. Being asked to wait by a butler that he had stationed there was even more so. Severus endured the tedium while he stared at the silk lined walls. He began to pace in front of the French windows that overlooked the courtyard. What he spied through them certainly did not look like lessons to him.

Miss Granger was strolling idly alongside a red haired gentleman—Mr. Weasley, he presumed. Though still not a beauty, she looked quite charming as she laughed aloud at something her escort said. It was then that he noticed it. Miss Granger's hands were fluttering about in front of her, and she had a look of concentration on her face. Every so often, she would pause and wait for the man to supply her with the word she was looking for. He frowned. He had truly thought that a woman as intelligent as Miss Granger would be able to master a few gestures in two weeks. After a couple of moments of being watched, Miss Granger spotted him and blushed. She waved and said something to the man beside her before hurrying inside.

"My lord," she said quite formally as she curtsied. She held herself ramrod straight and had the look of a lioness whose cub had been tormented. "We received no word that you would see fit to call on us."

Severus' lips quirked up slightly. "I didn't know that I would be censured by a nursemaid."

Miss Granger frowned. "'T was not censure, my lord."

"Enough of this. I am here to see the boy," he said, taking a seat on the elegant settee. "Is that permissible?"

"Harry is almost through for the day. Would you mind waiting just half an hour?" she asked earnestly.

Severus nodded. "What has Harry told you about the Dursleys? Does he understand the legal situation?"

Miss Granger shook her head. "Harry is no where near able to understand such things. As for the Dursleys, he managed to tell me that he used to sleep in the 'horse house,'" she told him, making the appropriate motions. "Do not take Harry's progress for granted. He has made huge strides. He is now able to communicate simply—in a word or two at a time. Signs like 'hungry,' 'tired,' 'happy,' and 'lonely' he knows quite well. With patience, we are able to come to understandings about each other and the things around us. Conversing as educated adults, however, is something neither of us can manage in sign."

"How is it then that he asked for me?" Severus asked skeptically.

"Lonely," Miss Granger said making the sign for the emotion. "Harry told me he was lonely. When he couldn't be appeased by my presence nor anyone else's, he made the sign for your name and then repeated that he was lonely."

The lord nodded. "I had not considered that he would miss me," he confessed.

"I knew he would. Despite your attempts to stay at arm's reach, I know that he has already taken to you," she told him. Glancing at the clock, Miss Granger stood. "I don't believe it could hurt too much for Harry to miss a moment or two of his lesson today. Would you follow me, please, my lord?"

Severus did as Miss Granger asked. He was actually quite surprised by the nervousness that bubbled up in his stomach. Though Harry was learning to communicate, Severus still had no real way to reach him on his own. He supposed Miss Granger would be the link between them now—a firm barrier separating Severus from acting on his foolish desires. The thought should have brought him a modicum of relief, but it did not. Instead, he felt as though he was being strangled by his cravat.

Miss Granger led him to a room on the second floor. "I had this room set up as a classroom for Harry," she commented before opening the door.

The teacher, Miss McGonagall, looked up at him with mild surprise. Her hands stilled, and she gestured for Harry to look toward them.

Until that very moment Severus hadn't realized that he had expectations for this meeting. In the back of his mind, he had pictured an exuberant Harry rushing to greet him. He thought that the boy would simply forgive his absence—act as though nothing had happened between them. No, he hadn't realized that he had expectations until they were not met. Harry simply sat at his desk. Wary green eyes showed no hint of the reverence that had once been there. His smile was forced and polite, as though he had been schooled by the great deceivers of the ton. He looked to Miss Granger with an expression that begged for some sort of intervention. Severus didn't doubt that Harry realized how ill prepared they were to talk.

Oddly enough, Miss Granger did not step in as Severus had expected. Miss McGonagall did. The matron stood up from her desk. "You must be Lord Snape," she said forthrightly.

"Miss McGonagall," he said with a tiny bow. "I have heard nothing but your praises from Mrs. Figg."

Miss McGonagall gave him a knowing smile. "Praise is quite unnecessary, my lord. My work is its own reward."

Harry did not seem to take well to being ignored. He moved his hands quite emphatically—though Severus hadn't any clue what he said.

Miss Granger let out a strangled giggle. "Harry wants to know where you have been."

Severus sighed. "Tell him that I have been with my wife."

His statement was followed by a great deal more fluttering gestures than Severus would have thought necessary. More than anything, Harry seemed confused. Eventually, Miss Granger saw fit to enlighten him. "Harry has yet to learn the sign for wife."

"I see," Severus replied limply.

He took a moment to examine his surroundings. His solicitor had sent over a bill for the improvements and yesterday for his perusal. Miss Granger was—to his relief—quite frugal. Still, he was impressed by the sensible schoolroom she had created. Complete with a full bookcase and chalkboard, she had left nothing out. In fact, Severus considered hiring Miss Granger one of the few intelligent things he had done since finding Harry.

After finally receiving enough clarification to be satisfied that Severus had not merely abandoned him, Harry became somewhat more relaxed—though still not the free spirit that Severus had come to expect. It was as if Harry had turned from small child to young man in the mere weeks Severus had been gone. Severus found himself missing the way the boy had looked at him before—even though he knew he bloody well didn't have the right to miss it.

"My lord, what do you think?" Miss Granger inquired with her brow knit in frustration.

"I am terribly sorry. My mind drifted. You were saying?" Severus asked, feeling the sting of embarrassment.

Miss McGonagall cocked a brow at Severus. The matron's eyes seemed to miss nothing from behind her spectacles. "We were simply saying that Harry might benefit from more frequent visits from you, my lord. He seems quite amazingly attentive when you are here," she added with an unreadable expression. Severus could have sworn he saw the woman smirk for just a second.

"I cannot make promises," he answered stoically. "I have a great deal of obligations to keep."

A look passed between the two women, but Severus did not notice. He was presently gazing across the room to the boy who had abandoned their boring discussion to look through his prized kaleidoscope. Would the obsession stop now? Would he finally begin to be free of his constant desire? And better yet: would he miss it when it had passed? Severus did not know, but he did know that he had other matters to attend to as well—matters that were currently back in Richmond.

* * *

Vernon Dursley paced before the fire anxiously. It had been nearly two full months since Harry had been gone, and the horror he'd been awaiting had yet to arrive. In the back of his mind, he dared to hope that Lord Snape would simply let the matter be. After all, he now had the boy and apparently knew nothing of Harry's true identity…or at least, Vernon was left to assume he knew nothing. Snape did not strike him as man to sit upon such information idly. The only true assurance that Vernon had in this debacle was his association with Cornelius Fudge. The magistrate had been ever so compliant after Vernon handed him a bank draft for twenty-thousand pounds. Snape would find no help from Fudge, that much was certain.

"Mr. Dursley," the maid said from the doorway. "A young woman is here to see you."

"I told you that I did not wish to be disturbed," Vernon bellowed as his face turned red.

The girl paled visibly. She knew what kind of a beast Dursley could be when he was riled. "She said it was urgent and that you'd want to know what she has to tell you."

Vernon sneered. "Send her in. For you sake and hers, it had better be bloody well worth it!"

He did not recognize the sickly, young woman who entered not a moment later. Her shabby clothes marked her as one of those sad urchins that he had no desire to deal with. Perhaps, she sought to beg coin from him through some deception. "Just who the devil do you think you are barging into my home like this?" he demanded roughly.

"Someone who knows all about young Harry Potter," she replied shakily.

Vernon stilled at the name. His eyes began to widen in horror and rage as he felt a certain familiarity take him. "What is your name, child?"

"Lavender Brown."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Revelations

Chapter 15: Revelations

Though the Season had yet to reach full force, there was already a twittering about the dedicated gossips of the _ton. _Lord Severus Snape—though only a humble baronet—had become the cause of great speculation. The man had practically been a hermit for so long that he had been all but forgotten. Why, it was quite a shock to many that the man resurfaced so suddenly! There had been a few vicious rumors circling about Lord Snape, but those had been put to rest with no more than a disapproving glare from His Grace, the Earl of Dunhaven. Lady Narcissa had furthermore silenced those particular rumors by whispering to her bevy of admires that she believed that Lord Snape had actually come to miss Lady Snape. Yes, the gossip mill was quite in swing, and Severus was nearly sick with disdain for all of it. However, he did make a glowing appearance at Lady Stafford's dinner party.

Severus had surprised Victoria with his easy acceptance of the invitation. Lady Strafford was well known to be more than a little dim-witted and not at all quiet about her rather less than insightful opinions. In fact, Victoria had been so shocked that she nearly chocked on a bit of scone. If Victoria were the sort of woman who enjoyed having her husband at hand at parties, she would have been delighted that he would make such an effort. As it was, she simply wished he would go back to the French harlot and rut until he was satisfied enough to return to Spinner's End. It would not do to put up with his rather stilted social performances in public only to be treated to his surliness afterward.

On the carriage ride home from Lady Strafford's, Victoria took the time to study her husband. He certainly was a homely man. She had thought so when she first married the man, though he did age much better than she had expected. His stern nature did little to soften the appearance of his Roman nose and thin lips, nor did his dark clothing suit his gaunt frame. Victoria had once begged him to at least cut his hair to a more fashionable length, but he had merely raised a brow and gone back to his books. To her, he had always been an absolute bore. He had never garnered much interest from her. Somehow, though, Victoria found herself very interested in him right then. As the carriage rolled along slowly, she noticed that Severus appeared more pensive than usual—though not in his traditionally scholarly way. It was almost as if he were pining.

Victoria snorted. She could not imagine the sort of woman who could make her dour husband pine for more than a mere second.

When they had first married, Victoria had believed that Lord Snape would be as other men were: completely and utterly enamored with her beauty. Lady Eileen had led her to believe that Severus was a man who would be happy with a pretty, biddable bride. In fact, Victoria had even looked forward to having a man who would cherish her and spoil her as she deserved. Instead, she ended up with an ill-tempered recluse who looked at her as though she were no more than a servant in his house.

"My lady, are you feeling well?" Severus asked, dragging Victoria from her thoughts.

Pasting on a smile, she nodded. "Oh, simply fine. I was merely thinking that we should have a dinner party of our own before the season is through—perhaps maybe even a ball," she suggested for effect.

To her satisfaction, Severus grimaced. "You know I detest hosting social events," he commented, sounding more like the man she had come to know, but then he smirked. "Though, I do admit, a ball would keep you busy enough to avoid making mischief, wife."

"Why, dear husband, I know not what you mean," Victoria ground out.

She wanted to claw him to death and scream like a banshee. Whatever his game was, Victoria would see an end to it. One way or another, she would make him regret every sharp word, every censure, and every single moment he had ever mistreated her. Victoria felt her composure returning.

"I will make sure that I throw a ball that will make you proud," she assured him winningly.

The morning after Lady Strafford's dinner party, Severus was quite resolved to avoid people at all costs. An evening in the presence of the cloying sycophants who made up the peerage was enough to leave him with a raging headache. His plans, however, were disrupted by the arrival of Mr. Whit, who appeared at precisely eleven o'clock. Severus found the investigator waiting in his study—where he had instructed the servants to lead him directly

Mr. Whit rose and bowed politely as the lord entered. "I do apologize for coming unannounced, but I came across a few tidbits that I believe you will find very interesting," he said without preamble.

"Really?" Severus intoned as he took a seat behind his desk.

"Mr. Dursley has come to London. I've had a boy watch the Dursley household since you first contacted me. He followed Mr. Dursley and his man, Pettigrew, to a flat not far from here," Whit explained.

Severus frowned. "Why the devil would he come to London?"

"I can't be certain. However, I did learn a good deal about Dursely and his man through a bit of digging. What would you say if I told you that Peter Pettigrew was the same man who was driving the coach on the very day that Sir James and his wife were murdered?"

"I would say that is a very strange thing, indeed," Severus murmured, not liking at all what that implied.

Mr. Whit continued, "Pettigrew had only been with the Potters for less than a fortnight when they were murdered. His references have been lost, but the Potters' housekeeper, Mrs. Kent, had a great deal to say about Pettigrew—none of it complimentary."

"I can only imagine," Severus snorted. "Do you still think that Pettigrew could be swayed to betray Dursley for the right price?"

"Oh, yes," Whit replied without thought. "In fact, I was going to ask what price you wanted to offer. I find it quite odd that Dursley has appeared so quickly and so closely to where you have Harry hidden."

A chill ran down Severus' spine. "He will never lay another hand on the boy as long as I draw breath," the lord swore. "Offer him fifty pounds."

Whit did not seem surprised in the least by the outlandish sum. The investigator merely nodded.

With his ideal afternoon disrupted, Severus reasoned that he had absolutely no excuse not to visit Harry. In fact, if was completely honest with himself, he might even admit that he truly did want to visit the boy. He briefly wondered what Miss Granger would have to say about his unannounced visit. After his first visit, Severus had fallen into a habit of visiting on Mondays and Thursdays just after Harry's lessons. He spent precious little time alone with Harry, and that was his own doing. It was dangerous to get too close to that fire unprepared. Instead of facing temptation, Severus spent the majority of his time talking with either Miss Granger or Miss McGonagall. Though neither commented on his hands off approach to Harry, it was clear that both women disapproved.

Severus was met at the door by a rather befuddled Dobby. "My lord," the butler said in shock, "it's Tuesday."

"Yes, Dobby, I am aware of that," Severus muttered as he pushed the butler aside.

Dobby straightened himself. "I am afraid Mrs. Figg and Miss McGonagall have gone on an errand and won't be back before this evening."

"And the boy?"

"Ah, young Master Harry is upstairs with Mr. Weasley, my lord. I believe he isn't feeling well."

Instantly, Severus felt a cold hint of anxiety strike. "Have you sent for a physician?"

The butler frowned. "Why no, my lord, I don't believe anyone has." 

Without giving a damn for protocol, Severus charged toward the steps. "Why not?"

"Well, my lord, I was under the impression that the young master's illness was entirely related to eating nearly a whole tray of Cook's sweet tarts himself," Dobby explained nervously. "Do you want me to summon a physician?"

"Bloody hell," Severus swore under his breath. Already halfway up the stairs, he felt like a thousand kinds of fool. He was happy that only his former butler had witnesses his poor behavior, but that soon changed when Mr. Weasley appeared on the top stair. Given the man's deformity, it was hard to tell if it was an amused grin or a polite smile that graced Mr. Weasley's features.

"My lord, we were not expecting you," the teacher said, erasing any doubt that he was indeed amused by the lord's arrival.

Severus wanted nothing more than to strangle the insolent manner out of him. Though he'd had very little to do with the man, he had come to dislike him intensely. Mr. Weasley was too cheeky, too pleasant for his tastes. Furthermore, Severus detested the way he turned Miss Granger from a reasonable, decisive woman into an awestruck, lovesick schoolgirl. Severus sneered as he recalled how she had looked at him over tea the day before.

"I wasn't aware that it was any of your concern," Severus stated loudly and clearly.

Mr. Weasley folded his arms over his chest—looking a great deal more menacing than he had before. "Whatever devil's bargain you've forced Hermione into is certainly my concern. She is a good woman…too good for the likes of you to foist your bastard on. And how dare you let your son…" 

"Harry is not my son! I will say it again, Weasley: This is none of your concern." Severus' control was waning.

"How you've managed to get Albus to agree to send us here with such an obvious farce is beyond me. Does it shame you to have a deaf son?" Mr. Weasley spat. His hands moved with each damning accusation. "Does it make you uncomfortable to be in his presence knowing that you've let him fall so far? Why did you even bother to bring him here if you were only going to ignore him?"

Severus didn't think until after it happened. His fist flew with unerring precision toward Weasley's face. The larger man reeled backward a bit before quickly moving to retaliate. Forcing Severus against the wall, Weasley returned Severus' blow. There was little doubt that he would have pummeled the lord had an unexpected savior not appeared. At first, Severus didn't even see Harry pulling at Weasley as the red-haired man released his grip on him.

Weasley and Severus both stared at the boy with open amazement. "Nuh!" Harry commanded sternly. His hands began to move quickly.

"He doesn't want us to fight," Weasley said flatly.

"I wouldn't have guessed," Severus drawled. "Tell him that I am very sorry he had to see that."

"See what?" Hermione asked from bellow. Miss McGonagall stood by her side. Both women appeared none too pleased with the sight of the battered looking gentlemen.

Stepping forward, Severus attempted to appear dignified. "It seems we can no longer keep our secrets in this house."

Hermione nodded. "I'll take Harry to his room."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

Chapter 16: Love and Consequences

Hermione sat across from William, feeling quite at odds. Though he had hardly said a word since Lord Snape's confession, she could see in his eyes that he was angry with her. She should have told him the truth. She'd tried a million times to think of just how to tell him that she was no widow, but instead she just let the lie skink her farther and farther. Now, Hermione couldn't blame him if he never forgave her. Her behavior was truly reprehensible.

"You have no idea how truly sorry I am," she told him. The spoken words came easily, even as she bungled her way through the signs.

"I'm not angry with you, Hermione. I understand why you and Lord Snape felt it necessary to keep Harry's true identity a secret. Though I hate to admit it, I actually respect Lord Snape for his eagerness to help Harry. It's just…I don't know…" William paused and turned toward the window. "I'm quite angry with myself for not realizing that you are an innocent."

Touching his shoulder, Hermione forced her way into his view. "Please don't let this change anything between us. You're the best friend I've ever had. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

For a long time, William stared at her. It was as if he was trying to judge her sincerity. He frowned.

"I shouldn't be here," he said finally. "It could ruin you if anyone found out that you and I have been alone for so long."

Hermione bit her lip. "I never cared if I was ruined."

"You've truly no desire to marry?" he asked.

"None," she said defiantly. "I am perfectly capable of making a way for myself without a man."

William chuckled. "And if someone were to ask for your hand?"

"I would say no. I value your friendship over the prospect of marriage," she told him earnestly.

His mirth deepened. "Then I shan't ask."

Her heart leapt in her chest. Hermione felt light headed. There was only one reason that she could think of for him to ask such a thing. "Would it be an offer out of obligation?"

"Hermione," he said, pulling her into his arms, "stop talking."

William's mouth captured hers and for one perfect moment, Hermione didn't have a single thought in her head.

Lord Snape's head, however, was far from uncluttered as he nursed a blackened eye in his carriage. It seemed that Harry was a master of surprise. Every time that Severus thought he had the boy figured out, he changed. An idea—and a quite foolish one, he thought—had come to him when he first began visiting. Despite his better judgment, Severus directed his driver to take him to Hogwarts. Unlike his first time at Hogwarts, Severus was not immediately whisked to the headmaster's office by one of the teachers. He was met near the door by none other than Minerva McGonagall—who did not appear to be shocked to see him.

The teacher smirked. "My lord, I knew you would come here, but I did not expect it to be so soon."

"And just how, madam, did you know that I would come?" he asked, barely hiding his annoyance.

"Because I knew you would not let a challenge pass you by," she replied without a hint of apology. "If you are looking for the headmaster, unfortunately, he is unavailable for callers at this time. Would you care to follow me?"

Severus did as the matron bid only out of deference to her respectful silence on the matter of Harry's true background. In honesty, he had no desire to see the school. Severus followed Miss McGonagall through the large sprawling wings of the school, stopping every so often when a student approached her. Most students, he noticed, relied solely on sign language to communicate, and the ones who did speak were, for the most part, near incomprehensible. Part of him already knew that Harry would never learn to speak normally, but the thought made his stomach clench into a ball. _That's why I'm here, _a little voice said inside of him.

Shaking away the thought, Severus began to study the building around him. The west wing of the school was comprised of mostly student lodgings, and the east held a small library and the classrooms. The original structure, Miss McGonagall had mentioned earlier, was intended to be a monastery. Nearly a hundred years later, it morphed into a private residence and once again nearly twenty years earlier to become a school. As Severus watched a line of young students walk down the hall to their dormitories, Severus began to wonder what Harry would have been like had he been sent here as a child.

The tour ended near the headmaster's office where Miss McGonagall stopped. "I will see if the headmaster is ready for you," she told him as she gestured to a row of chairs along the wall.

As Severus took a seat, his mind drifted back to his own school days. He had spent many hours in a hall very similar to this one, awaiting punishment for something or other that he had done. Usually, he was in trouble for fighting with the other boys, who taunted him mercilessly for being the son of a wastrel. It had never mattered that he did not start the fights, only that their fathers outranked his. That was when he began to lock away his emotions. He vowed he would never let someone get beneath his skin again—and then came Remus.

"My lord." Miss McGonagall's voice shook Severus from his thoughts. "The headmaster will see you now."

Headmaster Dumbledore was smiling in that annoying way of his when Severus strode into his office. It appeared that, like Miss McGonagall, he had known Severus would eventually come to Hogwarts. "My lord," he said with a great deal of mirth, "I am quite shocked to see you here."

Severus sneered. "Perhaps this was a mistake."

"No, I assure you, it is not." Dumbledore motioned for Miss McGonagall to leave them. "Please, have a seat."

Severus did so.

"Be honest, my lord: You love Harry, do you not?"

"What an absurd thing to say!" Severus burst. He would have continued, but the headmaster raised a wrinkled hand.

"I am no stranger to homosexual love…in fact, I enjoyed quite a bit of it in my younger years. Don't bother denying what you are, Lord Snape. I knew it from the moment Remus started talking about you—though the good doctor is quite innocent of directly saying so. At the very least, you can be honest about that," Dumbledore told him sincerely.

Severus sank deeper into the chair. "So what if I prefer a man in my bed? That doesn't mean I would fall in love with a child whom I cannot even communicate with."

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, but perhaps it does mean that you would fall in love with a young man who, despite having some great difficulties in his life, still remains strong and loyal."

"It is no more than a pathetic bout of lust," Severus corrected with a sneer. "I wish to rid myself of such ridiculous notions by finding out that the boy is no different from the rest."

"You are asking to learn sign language?"

"Yes," the lord ground out.

The headmaster smiled and nodded. "I will teach you myself, if you are willing to come to my office in the evenings."

Severus straightened himself. "Tomorrow then?" 

"Tomorrow," Dumbledore assured him.

As Severus' carriage rolled down the streets of London, he wished that he had not given up drinking. He could think of nothing else he wanted more at this particular time than to get completely foxed, but his oath held him. Before he reached his home, Severus rapped on the carriage roof. The conveyance came to a halt, and a rotund little man appeared. "Yes, my lord?" the driver inquired.

"I need to see Mr. Whit," he commanded without a moment's hesitation.

Mr. Whit's home—much like the man himself—was quite modest, though decidedly proper for a gentlemen. Nestled between similar homes, Whit's dwelling was the only one with candle light spilling from the windows. After handing his card to Whit's housekeeper, Severus was led into a library that was obviously designed for utility. Whit appeared in the doorway not a minute later.

"My lord, I was not expecting you," the inspector said with a curt bow. "Was there something you needed?" 

Severus nodded. "I wish to know how things have been progressing with Pettigrew."

Mr. Whit smiled. "In that case, would you be interested in a bit of adventure?" 

"To what end?"

"There is a small tavern near the docks where Pettigrew has found himself a bit of companionship. He's there nearly every evening," Whit added with a sneer—for Whit was certainly not a man of indulgence.

Mere moments later, Severus and Mr. Whit were riding down the streets of London in an unmarked carriage. Two footmen—both, Whit explained, were former runners and were armed should something unexpected happen—accompanied them through the seedier side of the city. Severus, like most of the peerage, had never strayed this far into the city's underbelly. He could smell the foul aroma of decay as they rolled on by. Briefly he considered that Dursley must only pay the man a pittance, for what man would choose to stray into such a hell? 

The carriage pulled to a halt before a rundown building brimming with drunken mirth. In plain view, one man was pawing a curvaceous wench while another was spilling his supper into the gutter as his friends looked on in amusement. Severus grimaced. That he would be forced to enter such a place did not sit well with him.

As if sensing his discomfort, Whit shook his head. "Let one of my men go in. He'll bring Pettigrew to us," he explained.

Severus nodded. "I can think of no better plan."

Pettigrew emerged from the tavern still clutching a bottle. Luckily, his gait was untainted by the drink, and it did appear as though he still had his wits—or rather what little wits he had. Before he reached the carriage, Pettigrew stopped and hauled the bottle to his lips. He obediently climbed inside after the footman opened the door.

Pettigrew frowned. "I ain't said that I'm willing to do anythin' just yet," he told the gentlemen.

"No," Whit said with a strong amount of disdain, "you're waiting to hear how much we'll pay you before you decide."

"A man's got to see that his needs are taken care of," he replied with a shrug. "How much blunt are we talking about?"

"Fifty pounds," Severus told him, breaking his silence.

Pettigrew's eyes began to twinkle at the mere thought of the money, but he was smart enough to not speak immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat. "And just what do you gents want to know?"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Desperate Measures

Chapter 17: Evil Rising

The carriage was moving so quickly that Lavender could hardly take in the scenery as it whipped passed her. She had never been this far from home—never imagined she would travel, but here she was, bound for Scotland. It hadn't been her idea. Mr. Dursley told her that it would be safest if she left immediately. There was simply no telling what Lord Snape would do if he found out that she had told. She had heard that the lord could be quite mean when he was angry. Mr. Dursley had sworn that he would tell no one that she had come to him. In fact, Mr. Dursley had even paid for her expenses and given her a generous purse in return for the information she gave him about Harry.

At first, Lavender had felt terrible about breaking her promise to keep quiet, but then she had heard how poor Mr. Dursely was only trying to keep Harry safe and away from prying eyes. It seemed that Dursley was not at all the monster people made him out to be.

Suddenly, Lavender was rocked from her seat as the carriage came to a sharp halt. She let out a murmured prayer and pulled herself up from the floor. Sticking her head out of the window, Lavender called out for the driver. "Why did we stop?" she asked when the young man appeared.

"I was only tol' to bring ye this far, miss," he replied in a rather nervous tone.

Lavender frowned. "Surely this is some kind of joke."

The driver shook his head gravely. "And God be with ye, miss, cos I won't."

She nearly fell back inside the carriage as the weight of what was happening settled upon her. Her heart began to pound, and her breathing became labored. She was bound to have one of her attacks, but she couldn't seem to find the will to reach for her medicine. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Vernon Dursley was a monster after all. Dear God, what a fool she'd been! She prayed that if she just got to London early enough she could warn Lord Snape and Hermione.

A strangled cry jolted her from her plans.

Forcing herself to peer out the window once again, Lavender was just in time to see the driver's body fall. A man—his face and form indistinguishable in the dim moonlight—laughed and brandished his knife about calmly. "Come out, dearest, it's time to pay for your transgressions," he said smoothly in a voice as elegant as it was cold.

"Please, no," Lavender begged pitifully as she huddled against the velvet**-**lined carriage wall.

Outside, that horrible laugh sounded again. The door opened slowly. Now, with the light of the carriage torch, she could see the face of evil. In all her life, she had never seen a man so terribly scarred. His face was a taught mask of seared skin, his nose and lips were no more than mere reminders of what might have been, but those features mattered little compared to the pure evil in his dark eyes. He smiled in a macabre fashion and lifted his blade into view—still bathed in the driver's blood.

"I thought it unfair to send you to hell alone, child," he murmured.

Lavender couldn't even catch enough breath to scream.

On that same night, Lord Severus Snape also learned a few things about evil. Though not a particularly naive man, Severus soon realized that his own dealings with the darker side of life were not nearly as vast as he might have thought. It began with Pettigrew's detailed description of how he had watched a man named Tom Riddle violate and brutalize the Potters. Severus could not hold back a chill running down his spine as Pettigrew told them that he had forced his accomplices to hold Sir James while they made him watch as Riddle raped and mutilated his wife. In the end, Pettigrew said that Sir James' own death was a blessing after what they wrought on him.

"And what of Harry?" Severus asked, feeling cold. "Why even take the boy in if they were only going to kill him?" 

Pettigrew shrugged. "It weren't Dursley's idea. His wife didn't know that he was involved in her sister's death. Now don't get me wrong, she didn't shed a damned tear over her 'beloved' sister, but it don't mean she'd like to see her off'ed as what her husband had done. Dursley thought his missus might not suspect if the boy were to have an 'accident' in a year or two. He thought he'd kill the boy like he'd killed his parents…just later, but then the boy got sick. Mrs. Dursley was the one who thought up hiding the boy, and I guess in Dursley's eyes if people thought he were dead and his missus still didn't think nothin' then all was well. And it was."

A wave of nausea washed over Severus. "Mrs. Dursley was the one who had him kept in the barn?"

"Said it was her Christian duty to see that he stayed locked away so he wouldn't be dirtying their good name with his madness," Pettigrew replied with a shrug.

Mr. Whit seemed rather unfazed by the information Pettigrew had given them. He gave the lord a look before asking his own questions. "And what does Dursley mean to do in London?"

Pettigrew took a long drink from his bottle. "I don't rightly know. After that girl come to him, he said that we was to pack up for London. He ain't said a word to me about it either way. He did pay someone to deliver some kind of urgent message though, now that I think of it."

"What girl?" Whit asked.

"Dunno. Some little bird named Lavender."

Right away Severus felt a flash of unsurpassed rage but held it in. "What was in the message?"

"Dunno that either," Pettigrew said with great annoyance. "I've told ye what I know. Now I'll take me money and go. It won't be safe be for too much longer."

At Whit's command, one of the footmen gave Pettigrew his money, and the little man scurried from the carriage. Before he left, he turned to Severus. "Mi'lord, if I was ye, I would get the boy well out of London and soon. If I know Dursley, he ain't about to risk his hold on the money."

When Pettigrew was gone and the carriage was in motion, Mr. Whit turned to Severus. "Things have gotten more dangerous," the investigator commented.

Severus nodded. "I understand if you will want to augment your fee."

"No," Whit said, shaking his head. "I won't ask for more money for myself. I always assume a certain amount of risk in these things for myself. However, I do recommend you pay for bodyguards for yourself and the boy. I know a few good men that I trust. Also—though I dearly hate to agree with that man—I don't think leaving London would be a bad idea." 

Severus weighed his options carefully. "And just where do you suggest I go?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Whit replied, looking suddenly more careworn than he had earlier. "I must say, in all my years, I have never dealt with anything like this. I may have to call in what favors I'm owed down on Bowstreet."

"Do what you must," Severus told him wearily. "And I shall do what I must."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Escape Into the Night

Fredrick Swift was a good boy. He worked hard and loved his dear mum and sister more than his very own life. Every penny he managed to scrape up went to feed and clothe the family his drunken father had left behind, but it was never enough. Fredrick wanted so desperately to buy his mum a nice new bonnet or even a pretty doll for little Lizzie, but more often than not he could barely afford the meager amount of food on the table. Nightly, he swallowed his meal and his pride together, as he wished he could do more. Fredrick Swift was a good boy, but when the fat man had come to the tavern looking for keen**-**eyed lads to keep watch over a house for him, he could not resist the temptation of the offered twenty quid.

It seemed like such an innocent job. He merely found a nice hiding spot across the way and watched who came and went. There was nothing wrong with watching, was there? Oh, but his employer made it seem so! Mr. Dursley's interest in that house was almost unnatural. The fat man paid three boys to watch the house every minute of every day. There was a feverish gleam in his eye that made Fredrick's skin crawl. If not for his mum and Lizzie, he would have turned his back on the job no matter how it paid.

At first, Fredrick had very little information to take to Mr. Dursley. The young woman, Mrs. Figg, left the house only rarely, and the young man left the house not at all. The only regular visitors were a man with red hair and a scarred face and a gaunt spinster. Hearing this didn't seem to get much of a reaction from Mr. Dursley, but then the lord arrived. As soon as the dark-haired nobleman began to visit, Mr. Dursley wanted nightly reports. He even demanded to know what kind of mood the lord seemed to be in. But nothing prepared him for when the lord and the boy disappeared into the night.

Fredrick was crouched in his usual place across the street when a black carriage appeared in front of the house. Lord Snape descended from the unmarked conveyance, looking about cautiously before murmuring something to the driver and then entering the house. Moments later, Lord Snape returned to the carriage in the company of a slender, dark-haired young man. It was the first time Fredrick had seen the boy that Mr. Dursley was so intent on watching, and he somehow knew that it would be the last time he saw him. Immediately, Fredrick wanted to run to the fat man and tell him, but he waited until the carriage had pulled down the street to pop out of hiding.

By the time he reached the Dursley residence, his lungs were burning and his legs ached from running the entire way. Fredrick entered the house through the servant's entrance and waited. It did not take long for Mr. Dursley to appear, looking quite ominous.

"What the devil are you doing here?" he demanded.

Fredrick pulled at the edges of his cap nervously. "Ye said I should come to ye right quick if I saw somethin', an' the boy has left the house. I don't know where they gone, but I watched 'em leave."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE LEFT THE HOUSE?" Vernon raged at the nervous young man before him.

Clutching his hat tightly, the boy began to stammer, "I…I…I saw the lord an' the boy get in his carriage. Now, I followed him a bit…like ye told me to…an' they were headin' out the city. Should I get the boys an' follow?"

"Absolutely useless!" Vernon growled. "I don't know why I even bothered to hire you. All of you are absolutely useless. Of course, you should follow them, you fool!"

In the time it took for young Fredrick to relay his message, Lord Snape and the boy were well on their way out of the city. Severus studied his companion thoughtfully. He was, thankfully, staring out the window intently, unaware that he was being watched. The thought had occurred to Severus over the passed few weeks that he could keep him as his new "mistress." He owned a small home just outside of Spinner's End that would do nicely, and he believed an arrangement between them could work. After all, he was undoubtedly through with London for a while, and he knew that the youth across from him desired him at least in some capacity. But then again, there were other things to consider…

Suddenly brown eyes turned toward him. "Do think they took the bait, my lord?" Daniel asked.

Severus shrugged. "We will know soon enough. I told Hermione and Mr. Weasley to wait a day or two before sneaking Harry away, and Mr. Whit has hired nearly a dozen of his most trusted counterparts to keep watch over things for me."

"It must be costing you a fortune," Daniel said in mild surprise.

"I have a fortune to spend," the lord replied in a rather blasé tone. He hoped the "courtesan" would dismiss the conversation and go back to his window, but that seemed unlikely. Since he had been given leave to speak—for the time being at least—Daniel had proved to be a near match for even Hermione's loquacious nature.

Daniel arched a raven brow. "Might I be so bold to ask who the boy is to you, my lord? I cannot help but to be somewhat struck by how much you have done for Mr. Potter. I doubt there is another man in all of England who would do the same." 

Sighing deeply, Severus debated what to tell Daniel. In a way, Severus could not deny that the young man deserved an explanation of it all. Daniel had been absolutely dumbfounded when Severus asked him to pretend to be Harry in a broader sense than just the bedroom, but he had not refused. In fact, his goal in aiding them did not even appear to lie in the heavy purse that Severus had offered for the scheme. Daniel—as Lupin would say—had a good heart despite his choice of profession. He deserved to know why Severus was willing to go so far and to ask others to do the same.

"I found the boy," Severus began slowly, and the tale began to unfurl—from how he found Harry to his somewhat dubious obsession, he left nothing out. With each word the lord found himself revealing things that he had not allowed himself to say aloud. It was as if he was incapable of keeping his silence for another day. By the time he finished, Severus could feel the steely constraints of his usual reticence returning, and he was at once embarrassed by what he had said. "I am not a man to give confidences—particularly those of a personal nature," he finished sternly.

Daniel's eyes were wide at what he had been told, but he did not take on the righteous anger that Severus had been suspecting. Instead, he shook his head grimly. "I had never imagined that someone like you existed."

"Someone like me?" Severus inquired softly despite the rage building inside.

"You are his dark angel," Daniel explained. He smiled sadly. "An avenging knight come to take him away from his pain. He is a lucky man, even with all of his trials. I am glad that I have been able to help you in whatever manner."

"I would have never guessed that a man in your line of work would be so bloody romantic," Severus murmured sarcastically.

The younger man merely shrugged. "I've seen too many people die inside. You can watch it happening—the loss of their dreams, the crumbling of their self-worth, the disintegration of their morals—in their eyes. Well, I swore to myself that I would never let it go that far. I sell my body, not my soul."

"Then you are far different from most people in my acquaintance—both whores and peers. Perhaps you are more like him than I thought." Severus shook his head. "Perhaps I am going mad."

Daniel smiled sadly. "If only we could all go mad."

Severus would have replied, but a sudden pounding came from the carriage roof. "Mi'lord, riders comin' up from the east. Hol' tight."

Biting back an oath, Severus peered out of the window to catch a glimpse of four dark-clad men attempting to flank the carriage. A shot sounded, sending one of their attackers hurtling into the dirt. The other riders paid no mind to their fallen friend. Severus silently hoped that the men Whit had sent with them were everything they were promised to be. Three more shots rang out, but Severus was not fool enough to put his head out. He pulled a small wooden box from beneath his seat and began to examine the pistol held within. Though he was no marksman, he had no intention of sitting by unprotected and unaware.

A shot splintered the wooden frame of the carriage, and Daniel let out a sharp cry of pain. Crimson liquid began to stain his shirt almost immediately. Severus hurried to use his coat to stop the bleeding, but he knew there was little he could do in the carriage to aid Daniel. He did not think that the wound would be lethal, but he was no physician. "Hold tight. It will be over soon," he said as softly as he could manage.

"God, it hurts," Daniel whimpered pitifully. He said something more, but his voice was drowned out by the beating hooves and sounding gunfire.

Severus held the wounded young man as steady as he could while the carriage rocked to a sudden halt. At first, he hoped to see one of the bodyguards appear in the doorway to announce that their attackers had been killed, but minutes passed with no sign of Whit's men. It was all too obvious that Whit's men would not be coming. The only ray of hope Severus could see was the gleaming weapon lying on the carriage floor. He pulled his pistol beneath Daniel's body and cocked it, hoping that he would have no need of it. He wasn't foolhardy enough to think that he could best a band of killers and thieves with a dueling pistol and a single shot.

"Be quiet," he whispered to the boy. Daniel nodded weakly against the lord's body, but to his credit, he made no sound.

They felt the carriage give way slightly as a man mounted the vehicle. There was a slight scraping noise, and then a body fell from atop, landing in the dirt with a macabre thud. Whit's men had failed. Above them, their murderer cleared off the remains of the fallen and prepared to add their bodies to the pile. Any second, Severus reasoned, the door would open and they would be dead.

It was rather strange. Severus had thought of death often. He had always believed that he would meet Death without regrets or fear, but now that he felt his hour at hand, things were quite different. Severus was bursting with both. He was terrified that now Harry was absolutely defenseless, and he regretted not caring for the boy as he should have…for not saying morals be damned and loving him. In fact, if Severus were a religious man, he would pray for Harry and for forgiveness. Instead he merely held Daniel and watched the door.

When the carriage door did open, Severus was greeted by the man who had killed the Potters. Pettigrew's description of this horribly deformed man had not been embellished. Surely this was a face formed by the fires of Hell. As the scarred tissue tightened around his mouth in something akin to a smile, Severus realized that their deaths were not going to be easy.

"Good evening, Lord Snape," a silken voice drawled.

Severus did his best not to betray his hand as he looked upon the killer. "I assume that you are Dursley's man."

A mirthless laugh escaped the man. "No, I am nothing to Dursley, and he is merely a heavy purse to me."

"If it is a purse you require…"

"You mistake my ambitions, my lord. The payment is agreeable, but I do what I do for the entertainment. Perhaps, I shall let you live long enough to hear the pretty one scream," he said smoothly as he brandished a blade.

One quick motion, Severus thought steadily. All he needed was one quick motion and one right moment.


	19. Chapter 19

Note: I have used **Bold text** for signed dialog

Chapter 19:

It was impossible to tell if he was freezing or burning to death. Either way, the pain was too much to bear. Severus cried out—or at least he thought he did—as a wet rag was thrust against his cheek. His eyes would not obey his command to open, nor could he lift his arms to swat away the offending cloth. He could only lie there and hope that his agony would end soon. Severus body began to shake violently, and then a calm darkness over took him.

Harry was so beautiful that the mere sight of him turned Severus' cock hard as stone. Pale shoulders were bared to the light of the moon as the young man shrugged of his shirt, and Harry cast Severus an enticing smile.

_ "I've missed you, Harry," Severus told him earnestly as he caressed the boy's cheek. "I can't quite say why, but I need you in my life. I need to hear you say that you need me. Please, tell me, just once."_

_ Harry leaned in and kissed Severus passionately. _

_ "You're dreaming, Severus. You need to wake up." _

The voice was wrong. No, Harry couldn't speak, but someone was talking to him. "Severus, open your eyes. We need you here," the voice said. In his hazy mind, Severus could recall that voice, but not its owner.

"Severus, you can't abandon Harry like this!" another voice challenged him.

Managing to crack an eye open, Severus could see the dim light of candles. He groaned as a shard of pain ripped down his spine. The room seemed to spin. Forcing his way through his discomfort, he finally opened both eyes and stared up at the faces hovering over him.

"Thank God," Remus murmured fervently.

Miss Granger brought up a cup to Severus' parched lips. "Try just a bit of water," she urged him. Severus didn't have the strength to turn away the offered drink, but could only hold down a little.

"I feel like I've been through hell and back," Severus croaked as his wits began to return to him.

"You nearly were. You've been in and out of consciousness for nearly four days," Remus told him as he lifted a hand to the lord's brow. "Your fever is much lower, my lord. What do you remember?" 

Severus tried to think back. A rush of memory flooded his half addled mind. Daniel's pain ravaged face came to mind. In that moment, all of the steadiness that Severus had gained failed him. "Does the boy still live?" he asked quietly.

"Daniel has already begun to heal nicely," Remus said with a sigh. "You've been the one to give us a fright."

Leaning back on an unfamiliar bed, Severus eyed the pale blue walls around him. "Where am I?"

"The Weasley estate," Hermione told him. "We brought you here after we found you unconscious alongside the road. Do remember what happened to you?"

The lord nodded. How could he forget? After all, Severus had killed a man. He could still feel the weight of the pistol in his hand and hear the shot ring in his ears. Tom Riddle hadn't expected Severus to be armed. How smartly he had brandished that blade! He seemed too enthralled with the prospect of mutilating them to imagine that Severus would not go down easily. In fact, Riddle had already started listing off the ways he wanted to cut them when Severus moved for the trigger. Severus was no marksman. The wound did not kill Riddle immediately. Riddle had staggered for a moment with his hand over the gaping hole at his stomach and blood dripping from his scarred lips. He'd smiled at Severus and drew his own weapon.

As if to affirm the realness of the memory, a sharp pain sliced through Severus' side. "The bastard shot me," he ground out. "I hope you left his corpse for the crows."

Hermione and Remus shared a look. "Whose corpse?" Remus asked.

"Riddle—the man who killed the Potters. Surely you found his body," Severus demanded. "I blew a hole in the man's stomach. I highly doubt he ran off."

"Perhaps one of his men took him away," Miss Granger suggested.

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Perhaps."

The absence of a body did not sit well with Severus. Though he logically knew a man could not survive the sort of wound he had inflicted upon Riddle, he had a feeling that the man was out there somewhere. Like a hound from hell on his prey, Severus could easily believe the killer would haunt them still.

"Hermione, why don't you go let everyone know that the lord has awakened and have a bowl of porridge sent up," Lupin requested as he came to Severus' bedside.

When the two were alone, Remus let out a weary sigh. "I truly was worried for you, Severus," the doctor said with emotion deepening his voice.

"Hell wouldn't have me so soon," the lord replied. He did not miss the way the physician used his Christian name, but he saw no reason to comment on it.

"And for that we are all very glad, my lord," Remus said with a half smile. "I would like to take a look at your wound, if you wouldn't mind?"

The examination was mercifully quick, and the doctor was satisfied with what he saw. Severus could not deny that Remus truly did have a healer's hands. For the first time in years, he could honestly say that he was glad to know the man. He realized just how gifted and compassionate Remus was—though he would never give voice to such thoughts.

Not a moment after Severus was once again dressed, the door opened and a matronly woman with red hair appeared with a tray. "It is so good to see you awake, my lord," she told him without preamble.

"Lord Snape, may I introduce you to Lady Weasley," Remus said.

"Thank you for your concern and your hospitality, my lady," Severus told her trying to hide his surprise. He had not realized that William Weasley came from a titled family, and it was quite unconventional that the lady of the household should bring him his meal.

Lady Weasley set the tray on the bedside table. "You are most welcome, my lord. From what my son has told me both you and your ward have been through quite the ordeal, and I am most glad to be of assistance—my husband and I both are."

"Still, I will do my best to repay your kindness."

"Oh, I'll hear nothing of it," she insisted. "The world would be a sorry place if we all stopped helping each other. Now I'll leave you to rest. Young Harry will no doubt want to see you in the morning and you will need your strength."

After her departure, Severus eyed Remus curiously. "Just how much does she know?" 

"Mostly everything," the physician admitted. He sighed. "You were on death's doorstep nearly, and Daniel wasn't far behind when we arrived. We couldn't very well barge in with two injured men and not offer an explanation. Sir Arthur and his wife have been nothing if not helpful."

"This supposed _secret_ is not very well guarded, it seems," Severus muttered. Though he could not deny that Remus had a point, he wasn't about to say so. "How is Harry coping with this all?"

Remus shook his head. "Not very well at all, my lord. Mr. Weasley nearly had to drag him from your bedside to make him rest this evening. Even when we managed to keep him from the room, he paced in the hall outside. Poor boy nearly ended up making himself sick with exhaustion. He will be quite angry for not waking him, but I think he needs his rest almost as much as you do."

Severus closed his eyes. "Let him sleep."

After a meal and a night's rest, Severus woke the next morning feeling a great deal better than he had before. He rubbed a hand across his brow as he contemplated trying to hoist himself upright. Eventually, the pain in his side convinced him that it would not be a wise decision, and instead he simply stared at the room around him.

His surroundings were modest, but well kept. The walls were painted a pale blue with white trim and the furniture looked as though it had survived quite a bit of nicks despite the fresh polished shine. Faded blue curtains were drawn back to reveal the sun shining through clean windows. From his bed, Severus spied several amateurish water color paintings depicting red haired children hanging on the wall. He wondered if Lady Weasley had painted them herself. Somehow, he believed that she had.

Not long after he had awakened, the door opened slowly and Harry's head peaked through. Despite his better instincts, Severus smiled. "I knew I would see you sooner or later," Severus muttered.

Obviously believing he had been invited in, Harry strode over to the chair beside the bed and dropped himself haphazardly into it. Relief spread over the boy's otherwise worn features. Just as Remus had told him, Harry had been quite worried for him. The thought was oddly humbling and almost welcome. What had he really done to earn such adoration from Harry? True enough he had taken the boy in, but he had all but pushed Harry away over the time that followed. Others had stepped in to care for him in the lord's absence. Why did Harry care so much for Severus' well being? It was quite baffling.

Suddenly, Severus' throat became quite tight, and he felt the overwhelming urge to thank the boy for giving a damn. Instead, Severus lifted shaky hands. "**Good morning**_," _he said using both speech and sign.

At first, Harry's eyes merely widened, and Severus wondered if he had muddled the sign so badly. Harry's smile was more brilliant than anything Severus had seen before. Tears formed in the boy's eyes as he signed, **good morning.**


	20. Chapter 20

Note: BSL (as well as ASL) is not merely signed English. BSL is an entirely different language with its own grammar. The signing in this story is not literally translated. Also, in places where there are bold words mixed with normal font, this is what Severus is able to sign at this point.

Chapter 20: Go Fly A Kite

Two little words changed everything. Severus hadn't imagined how much his willingness to learn sign would mean to Harry. In his whole life, he couldn't think of a time he had made one person near so happy as he had made Harry that day. Gone was the cool facade that Harry had worn the for the last month and a half. The boy's eyes told the depth of his gratitude as he swiped at the shimmering tears that welled up in them. It made Severus want to kiss him senseless.

Instead, Severus merely gave a wry smile. "You are far too easy to please, boy," he murmured.

Harry cocked his head to the side and began a flurry of rapid fire signs. His hands moved elegantly forming words that Severus had no hope of understanding. The boy stopped, obviously waiting for Severus to respond. Feeling very much like an idiot child, Severus tried to think back to his few lessons with Dumbledore for the words for "I don't understand," but he was drawing a blank. Harry frowned and tried again a bit slower. Severus still was helpless to comprehend what the boy was trying to tell him. This was what Harry must have felt so many times, Severus realized—the burning need to understand, to have someone understand him. Swallowing hard, Severus shook his head.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh, but then began again. He pointed to Severus and then brought his right hand to his forehead in a C shape and then closed it.

"Me?" Severus inquired pointing to himself.

Harry nodded and brought his hand to his forehead once again. The sign looked damn familiar. Severus knew it was one that he had learned. And then it struck him.

"Learn," he said repeating the sign.

Smiling widely, Harry made one last sign. With his fingers wide, he moved his hands near each other in an almost fluttering motion before bringing his index fingers together and apart. That one Severus recognized.

Severus nodded. "**Yes, I **am **learn**ing **sign**." A sense of satisfaction spread throughout Severus as he leaned back against the pillows. There he had done it!

In the days that followed that first painstaking exchange, Severus found himself learning a great deal more sign. Dr. Lupin was quite adamant that Severus remain abed until his side had healed more. Between Lady Weasley and Hermione, Severus had little choice but to stay in bed, and learning signs was a great deal more stimulating than staring at the walls. In the mornings, while Harry had lessons of his own, Hermione would come to his room and show him some basic words and phrases, and Mr. Weasley came in the afternoons. In the evening, Harry brought him his dinner tray and then stayed for a brief visit. It galled him to admit that Hermione had been right; sign language was indeed complex and took a great deal to learn. His own progress was coming in small strides, but it seemed to make Harry so blissfully happy that he kept on with it.

Aside from his lessons, Severus was often visited by Lady Weasley, who would appear with little warning to check on him and then disappear. Lady Weasley was a rather singular woman, Severus soon found out. The mother of seven and wife to a scholarly baronet seemed little concerned with the gossip rags from London or the latest fashion plates smuggled in from France. There was enough about the house to keep her more than occupied. Lady Weasley seemed the sort of woman who took things well in stride, not even minding the prolonged stay of two injured guests. She told him that the doctor had also ordered Daniel to rest for a few days, but that the younger man was recovering quickly enough to be rather perturbed by his own inactivity and sometimes required a bit of "urging" to remain tucked in his bed. Lord Snape had no doubts that Daniel hadn't a chance of escaping their hostess.

It took four days of bed rest before both Remus and Lady Weasley would allow him up and about. The first time he stood he was assaulted by a bout of dizziness that nearly took him from his feet. Sneering at his own weak body, Severus dressed in a fresh set of clothes that Lady Weasley had unpacked for him. Severus glanced at his own reflection as he straightened his cravat. The face in the mirror was indeed that of a sick man. His complexion was a tad paler than his already ghostly skin tone, and his cheek bones shone a bit more prominently than they had before. Thankfully, Lady Weasley had helped him shave that very morning. He doubted the addition of stubble would have improved his visage.

The short journey from his bed to the Weasley parlor was enough to leave him exhausted, and Severus sat himself in an overstuffed armchair. He was weary to the bone, too much so to present himself in the dining room for luncheon as he had intended. Instead, he decided to rest here for just a moment before continuing on. It felt as though Severus had merely blinked, but it was some time later when he was awakened by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Looking up, Severus saw a man standing near him who could be none other than Sir Arthur Weasley. Though his host had not made a trip into his sickroom—for which Severus was thankful—he recognized the color of the man's hair. He was middle aged and quite average looking with thinning red hair and ink stained fingers. "My lord, perhaps you would be more comfortable back in bed," Sir Arthur suggested.

Severus shook his head. "No, thank you. I had not meant to spend the day asleep...Sir Arthur, I presume?"

"Quite right," the scholar confirmed. "On other circumstances, I would have introduced myself much sooner, but who needs a pack of strangers crowding around when you are trying to recover."

"The courtesy is much appreciated," Severus told him honestly. "I am much in your debt, sir."

"On the contrary, it is an honor to be of service, my lord. I have long admired your works," Sir Arthur admitted.

"Really? I was under the impression that no one read my papers aside from a few other botanists," Severus quipped dryly.

Sir Arthur laughed. "They were not as titillating as most novels, my lord, but it is still quite fascinating work. I am not much of a scientist myself. My expertise lies in historical linguistics, but I do enjoy a nice break from deciphering Middle English now and again."

"I understand, entirely," Severus agreed thinking of the numerous books lining the shelves of his study. "I must say I do find Jacob Grimm's work to be most interesting."

The baronet blinked. "Really, my lord?"

The two scholars chatted amicably for nearly an hour before a slender girl with the signature Weasley red hair appeared. "Father, leave the lord be. I am sure he would rather rest peacefully," she chided gently.

"Lord Snape, I would like to present my daughter, Ginerva," Sir Arthur introduced.

"A pleasure," Lord Snape said as the girl curtsied.

"Thank you, my lord. I do hope that you will please overlook our family's oddities. We are not used to entertaining anyone from London society," Miss Weasley said with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"London society is not something I should wish upon someone," Severus commented.

The girl laughed. "Mother sent me to offer you something to eat. Our cook has made some wonderful sandwiches."

"That sounds delightful as I have missed luncheon it seems," Severus said apologetically.

"Not an uncommon occurrence in this household, I'm afraid. My mother assures me that missing meals is a trait that all scholarly gentlemen share. Father has quite the habit for it," Miss Weasley told him in mock secrecy.

Despite himself, Severus found himself quite charmed by the county miss. She was just the type of girl that would be overlooked by the majority of foolish young men at the London balls, but he had no doubt she would make the perfect academic's wife—as her mother before her so obviously had. He made a mental note to offer his London home to the Weasleys for the season. It simply wouldn't do to be beholden to a family that he hardly knew.

By the time Severus had eaten, the Weasley family had already settled into their daily routine and Harry was already in the middle of his lessons. Left to his own devices, he found himself seeking out Daniel—who had also been released from bed that morning. With a book in one hand and his right arm still in a sling, Daniel was seated outside when Severus located him. The courtesan smiled and rose to his feet when he saw Severus approach.

"My lord, it is good to see you looking so decidedly alive," he said teasingly.

"I could say the very same for you. Last I recalled, you were bleeding in my arms," Severus reminded him with very little mirth. He took a seat and picked up the book. "_Emma? _Exactly what kind of drivel are you reading?" 

Daniel simply shrugged. "It was something that Miss Weasley told me she rather enjoyed, and decided to try it. However, it certainly is more suited to a woman's tastes. I doubt I will finish it. But something tells me it isn't my literary critique you wanted to talk about."

"No, it isn't," the lord confirmed. "How much do you recall after I was shot?"

"To be honest, nothing. I lost consciousness before you were injured," Daniel confessed. "I was quite convinced that I would die right there."

"As was I."

"You don't think he's dead, do you?" Daniel asked.

"Logic would say that he couldn't have survived," Severus replied.

Daniel unconsciously reached toward his injured arm. "I didn't know that such evil existed, and I was quite content believing that he was rotting in hell. Do you think Harry is safe here?"

"I do," Severus assured him. "There were no other riders with him that survived and even if he lived, Riddle is in no shape to come after us so soon. A few more days and we will head for Spinner's End. From there, you are free to stay as long as you wish or to return to London."

Daniel nodded. "London is tempting," he said with a slight shyness, "but I do believe I have reason to stay."

Severus was not given time to digest Daniel's words as a familiar form came rushing up to him. With his cheeks flushed and a slight bit of perspiration on his forehead, obviously Harry had been running. His hands moved equally as fast forming signs too quickly for Severus to grasp nary a one.

**"Slow down," **he told the boy—words he learned the signs for in his very first lesson with Hermione. It seemed Severus wasn't the only one lost by Harry's quick movements.

Grudgingly, Harry repeated himself. This time, Severus was able to make out a few signs from the mess. **Come...me....Mr. Weasley...up.**

Severus nodded and stood. "It seems there is something he wishes to show me," he told Daniel.

Harry led Severus to the pasture behind the house where Mr. Weasley was waiting. The teacher smiled at him and held up a kite. "Harry wanted you to come see it fly," he explained. "It took us a few tries to get it up earlier, but there is a bit more wind now." 

"Wonderful," the lord said flatly. He offhandedly wondered if his disinterest was as apparent in his features as it was in his voice, for the deaf man did not seem to mind his sarcasm. If not for Harry's obvious enthusiasm, Severus would have simply rolled his eyes and returned to the house. At the moment, his side was aching fiercely and he felt the coming on of one hell of a headache, but the boy looked so damn happy. Resigned to spending the remainder of the afternoon watching this frivolous kite business, Severus took a seat on the ground.

True to Mr. Weasley's prediction, they had no difficulty getting the kite into the air. On the very first try, Harry managed to get it soaring proudly above them. The late day sun made it hard for Severus to keep his eyes on the sky, and he spent more time watching the boy than he did the kite. Severus wondered if in all of his life something had ever made him as happy as this bit of paper and string did Harry. The boy's wide eyed jubilation made Severus realize all the more that he was a selfish man for wanting Harry the way he did. Though he couldn't quite say why, he knew that he wanted Harry as a part of his life even if it meant being dragged across a pasture to watch a kite flying.

When the kite came down, Harry and Mr. Weasley came back over to where Severus sat. Harry plopped unceremoniously on the ground beside him and began signing. Severus was exhausted from his first day about and not in the mood to try to decipher more signs. He looked to the teacher for assistance. "What does he want?"

"He wants to know if you have ever flown a kite before," Mr Weasley said.

"When I was very young perhaps, but I can't recall," Severus replied.

Harry gave a sad smile and raised his hands to speak."When I was little," Mr Weasley interpreted, "I used to fly kites with other children. I missed it very much."

"Ask him if he remembers much about how things were before he lost his hearing," Severus requested. Mr. Weasley did as he was asked.

Harry looked away for a long moment before his eyes returned to Severus. Without warning, he stood up and began walking back to the house.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Tempest

The next day it rained, and there would be no kite flying. Not that it seemed Harry would be interested in flying a kite. After Severus had questioned him, Harry had withdrawn into a shell that not even Hermione or Mr. Weasley could penetrate. The boy disappeared for nearly a whole day only to be found curled into a ball in the stable. Hermione, of course, blamed him for Harry's aloof behavior, and Severus couldn't tell her otherwise. In hindsight, he shouldn't have asked. Harry was still too fragile to be pushed. Severus wondered if Harry would ever tell him about what had happened at the Dursleys', and more and more he wondered if he even really wanted to know.

After a near silent breakfast with the Weasley family, Severus pled a headache and settled himself into Sir Arthur's empty study. He chose a volume from the dozens lining the walls but had very little inclination to actually read it. Instead, he thumbed the edges of the pages absently. His mind kept turning over the time that he had spent with Harry. The boy had been so happy of late. He had managed to overcome more than Severus had ever believed possible. Rather than the hard, angry person that he easily could have become, Harry was still full of wonder. Perhaps it was best to leave the past buried.

A gentle knock sounded at the door, and Severus was forced to set aside both the unread book and his thoughts. "My lord, I was wondering if I might have a word with you?" Lady Weasley asked softly.

"Yes, of course," he replied as he rose from his seat.

The matron gave him a nervous smile before sitting down across from him. "I must say that it is obvious that you care for Harry a great deal. It is really quite extraordinary to see just how far you are willing to go to protect him." 

"I am simply doing what must be done," he said, uncomfortable with the praise.

"And what of the future? What does Harry want for himself?"

The questions gave Severus pause. In truth, he hadn't given Harry's future much thought. He had merely assumed that he would provide for Harry and that the boy would have no real need for anything. Strangely enough, he hadn't considered that Harry should want to live a life other than that—hadn't considered it possible. "I'm not certain," the lord murmured softly.

Lady Weasley nodded. "My husband and I have been talking." She wrung her hands nervously as she paused. "Well, we were wondering if you might consider leaving Harry with us?"

Severus' immediate reaction was to refuse, but he kept his silence instead for a moment. Surely Lady Weasley and her husband would provide a stable home for Harry. As much as the thought of leaving Harry behind hurt, he doubted he could ever give him the sort of familial support that the Weasleys could. He would be tempted as long as Harry was near and that was something that he could not deny any longer.

"I shall give it some thought," Severus answered slowly. "After all of this mess has been settled, I will let you know." 

"Thank you for considering it," she told him as she stood. "Speaking of Harry, I wonder where the boy has gone."

Severus had a good idea that he had taken off to the stables again but said nothing. If Harry needed a bit of time away, who was he to intrude? The boy certainly had a great many things to think about these days. Perhaps a bit of privacy was just what he needed.

After an hour passed with no sight of the boy, Severus began to notice a tiny seed of anxiousness building in his stomach. Not since he had awoken had Harry been away from him for so long. Severus found himself wishing that he could find it in himself to walk right out to that stable and sit with the boy. Even when he could not fully communicate with Harry, he was always somehow soothed by Harry's presence. He wanted to be forgiven, he realized, but he was not well acquainted with either giving or receiving forgiveness.

When Harry did not return by late afternoon, Severus**'** resolve to give Harry space had waned, and he found himself standing in the stable. The smell of hay and horses was seemingly intensified by the rain outside, and Severus sneered as he fought the urge to cover his nose. Severus searched the stalls one at a time to no avail. It did cross his mind that Harry had gone elsewhere, but he didn't think that the boy would have evaded Lady Weasley inside the household. A creek above Severus sounded, and the lord then knew where Harry was. Cursing beneath his breath, Severus strode over to the ladder leading to the loft and steeled himself against the pain that ripped through him as he began his climb. Sure enough, Harry was reclining against the wall watching the rain through a small window. Harry must have felt the vibrations in the floor, and he looked to Severus as he hoisted himself up.

The boy bit his lip but did not sign. Without the words to draw him out, Severus joined him in his storm watching. Then Harry did something quite unexpected. He leaned his head against Severus shoulder. Unsure what to do, Severus did what seemed natural: he wrapped an arm around the boy's slender shoulders and savored the feel of Harry's body so near his own. It was an innocent touch, but one that ignited a burning deep down to his core. God, how he wanted Harry! Even now, his thoughts strayed to stripping the boy bare and taking him on the hay. Instead, he merely held Harry and watched the sky.

The rain soon became a full blown storm within a matter of minutes. Lightning danced its way across the sky weaving intricate patterns in its wake. The wind whipped through the trees on hill. For the first time in a very long time—perhaps in his entire life—Severus saw a beauty in it. He had never paid attention to the colors that swirled in the sky as the dark clouds moved above him, nor had he noticed the subtle weight to the air as the rain came down outside. It was such a simple pleasure that to Harry must seem like a decadent luxury. In a way, Severus was amazed that Harry would allow him to share it with him. Severus didn't know how long they remained there. An hour perhaps, but it seemed all to short when Harry pulled away.

**Beautiful, **Harry signed and then pointed to the sky.

Severus nodded. "**Yes. Beautiful."**

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. **I'm happy.**

Damning himself for not learning more from that doddering fool Dumbledore, Severus smiled. "**Good."**

** You and me. I'm happy, **Harry signed again, and Severus guessed that he meant that he was happy they were together. The satisfaction it brought Severus was almost too much.

Severus didn't think before he pulled Harry to him. His mind was utterly gone as his lips met Harry's and his tongue slid into Harry's willing mouth. The boy melted against him in a perfection so utterly sublime that Severus felt it all the way to his toes. Harry's lips tasted slightly of the apples he loved so very much, and the earthy sweetness of him was like a drug that had seeped into Severus' veins. He wanted more. His hands began to grasp at Harry's shoulders and Harry moaned. Harry's erection pressed in Severus' thigh was enough to make Severus ache to touch him there, but it was too soon. It was much too soon.

Easing Harry out of his arms, Severus could still feel the boy's pulse raging within himself. He let out a ragged breath before signing. "**You and me. Slow down."**

Harry looked crestfallen but nodded.

Severus was straightening his cravat when the boy suddenly became aware of himself. Harry's face blazed as he stared with a horrified gaze at the bulge in his trousers. Harry turned away quickly to hide it, and Severus began to curse himself. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? He stepped around Harry and did the only thing he knew to do. Severus pointed to his own hardened member. "It happens to us all," he said aloud, knowing full well that Harry couldn't understand his words.

Harry stared for a moment. **Big, **he signed and then pointed to Severus' crotch.

Severus couldn't stop his laughter. "Only to the eyes of the inexperienced."

When the storm—and certain body parts—had calmed, Severus and Harry walked back to the house. Before reaching the door, Severus stopped Harry. He fumbled for the words to ask for Harry's discretion. The boy watched as the lord rambled in sign incoherently for a moment before letting out a little laugh. He pointed to himself and then brought a finger to his lips. Though he let out more of a sigh than a "shh," Severus understood his full meaning.

Lady Weasley was not at all pleased with the two dripping men in her household. Severus was almost certain that if not for his rank and unfamiliarity, he would have gotten an earful from the matron. In this instance, he thought, Harry could be glad for his deafness, for Lady Weasley's shrill voice could be heard in Severus' room down the hall as she ranted at him for giving them all such a scare. Still, the worry was clear in her voice even at a distance, and it made him wonder all the more if leaving Harry was not such a bad idea. After all, how selfish could he really be?

That evening, Severus was asked into the study by Mr. Weasley. The teacher was grim faced as he explained, "Harry wants to answer your question from yesterday. He wants me to interpret for him. Keep in mind that Harry still doesn't have a complete grasp on sign, and I will try my best to make sure your both understood."

"Tell him he doesn't have to do this just yet," Severus told Mr. Weasley.

"I'm ready," Mr. Weasley interpreted. Severus eyed the young man sitting across from him. Harry looked resolute, and that was enough to erase Severus' doubts about having this conversation.

"From here on out, address Harry not me. I am merely acting as his voice," Mr. Weasley said before signing to Harry.

Harry began to sign. "I don't like to remember my life before now. It hurts. When I could hear, things still weren't good. My aunt and uncle didn't like me. They said mean things. My uncle would beat me when I was bad. He said I was always bad. I'm glad I don't remember their voices. I wanted to run away, but then I got sick." 

Severus took his time to digest what he was being told. It made him want to kill Dursley with his bare hands. "How old were you when you got sick?"

"Nine. I woke up one day and my head hurt. Everything was hot. It hurt so much, but no one did anything. I thought I was going to die. When I woke up, I couldn't hear. I tried to talk but my words didn't come out right. Every time I tried to talk, my aunt would slap me. I stopped trying after a while."

Harry shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. His cheeks were dry, but his eyes were glassy and bright with unshed tears. More than anything, Severus wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him they would do this another day, but then Harry continued on.

"They made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. It was small and dark. My uncle locked me in at night. If they had visitors they would put me in the basement or the stable. I liked the stable better. One day, I tried to run away. I wanted to smell the air. See the sky. I got caught. They beat me. This time I wanted to die. I prayed that I would die. Then you came. You made me safe."

Severus was still and silent. He did not know exactly what to say. Words or no words, he was beginning to think it didn't matter. "Harry, I will always protect you," he swore, staring into Harry's eyes. "Always."

Harry nodded and smiled.

"I know," Mr. Weasley said, giving voice to Harry's sign. Though Severus couldn't say why, until that moment, Mr. Weasley's voice hadn't sounded like his own. It was somewhat jarring to realize once more that Harry was actually speaking through someone else.

Regaining his composure, Severus looked to Mr. Weasley. "Thank you for your assistance," he said.

"It was nothing at all," Mr. Weasley replied casually. "Soon, you two won't even need me."

The men parted ways soon after. Harry looked a bit drained from it all, and Severus was starting to feel the strain of the day on his body.

In the morning, Severus asked that his carriage be readied. Lady Weasley had the cook pack a bit of food for the travel even though it was less than half a day's journey. She did not ask for Severus' answer, for she knew instinctively that he would not give up Harry. Goodbyes were said just after breakfast, and the carriage departed with Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Harry, Daniel and Severus all crammed inside. Severus could only wonder what awaited them in Spinners's End.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22: Matrimonial Bliss

Lady Snape did not care for Spinner's End. Though it was quite fashionable to own an ancestral home in the country, residing there for more than a month or so at a time was not. Victoria despised the country gentry and would not allow herself to venture into their ranks nor realm. Following the dowager Lady Snape's last living years, Victoria vowed never to return to Spinner's End unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. She had considered herself quite lucky that the occasion had never arisen. However, Victoria found that she could no longer ignore whatever intrigue her husband was wrapped up in.

Whatever Lord Snape may believe, his wife was neither blind nor stupid. For the past few months she had begun to suspect that something was amiss. At first she had merely assumed that it was connected to his mistress—not that she minded the idea of her husband's unfaithfulness—but then began the clandestine meetings with a man from Bowstreet and the frequent meetings with his solicitor. Her initial fear was that Severus was low on funds, but that would hardly make sense with all of the business dealings he had with the earl. No, this was something else entirely. But what could bring her stoic husband to action like this? After meeting with much disappointment in snooping around in London, Victoria decided that she must travel to Spinner's End to find that answer. However she found that her husband had not returned as planned.

For three days, Victoria sequestered herself in the opulent lady's suite of the house. She said little to the staff directly aside from her maid, Sophie, who had begun the arduous task of finding out what was being said bellow stairs. The servants of Spinner's End were a loyal lot, through and through. They said very little of anything in front of the lady's maid at first. Lord Snape was a fair master; he was neither overtly kind nor cruel. He rewarded hard work and efficiency with pay that was almost unheard of among their peers, but he would dismiss anyone he did not find to his standards. Servants who gossiped were usually sent packing with surprising speed. Not even the lowest chamber maid would dare to speak aught of the household goings on with anyone she did not completely trust. No matter how skilled Sophie was at getting bits of information, she could not break into the inner circle at Spinner's End. This, Victoria decided, would take a slightly more skewed approach.

On the fourth day of her stay, she asked that Mrs. Figg meet her for tea in one of the less formal parlors. The housekeeper was a source of general annoyance for Victoria. When she had first married, she had thought to charm the old woman into keeping tabs on her husband for her, but she had soon found out that Mrs. Figg's loyalty lay with her surly master. Victoria had summarily ignored Mrs. Figg as she had all things in Spinner's End. The fact that she needed the old hag now galled Victoria more than she was willing to admit. As she poured the tea for both of them, Victoria was quite careful not to let her smile slip from her lips.

"I must say that it is good to have you in the house again, my lady," Mrs. Figg said as she accepted the cup.

"It's lovely to be back. I do so love the country," Victoria lied. "The London house is so poorly run that it requires almost all of my attention. It is so good to return to such a well managed home. My husband sings your praises every time he comes to town."

Mrs. Figg smiled. It was hard to tell if she believed Victoria or not, but she didn't dare gainsay the lady. "Words of praise from a man who says so very little are such an honor."

"I must say that you have handled all of the recent chaos with grace," the lady commented casually. "Have the servants managed to hold their tongues?"

"Admirably," the housekeeper confirmed curtly.

Victoria bristled. Couldn't the woman say anything useful? "What arrangements have been made?"

Mrs. Figg raised a gray brow. "Why, my lady, we have done exactly what the lord asked of us."

"I'm sure you have," Victoria agreed smoothly. "I only wish to check up on things a bit. After all, things were becoming a tad messy."

That seemed to shake the old woman. Mrs. Figg frowned. "Oh, dear."

"Indeed," the lady intoned somberly. "I merely wish to help. I hate to see my husband run himself ragged when there is no need."

"Perhaps it's best, lady, that you speak with him directly. My old mind boggles at all of the twists and turns of this story. I'm afraid, I am not the one who should tell it to you," Mrs. Figg said softly.

Victoria glared at the old woman. "What makes you think I don't already know?"

"Perhaps you do, but I have sworn not to tell a soul. Lord Snape's trust is not a thing to be trifled with." Mrs. Figg stood and began clearing the tray. "It was lovely of you to invite me to tea, my lady."

"You insolent, old cow! Do you really think I will allow you to talk to me in such a manner?" Victoria spat. "I want you out of this house. I don't ever want to see your face again."

Only furthering the lady's rage, Mrs. Figg merely smiled. "I will pack my bags then."

Severus leaned his head against the frame of the carriage. He had never enjoyed travel, and being crammed in alongside four other adults made it even less pleasant. His side ached fiercely, and his body was stiff. The other occupants of the conveyance seemed equally as uncomfortable, but no one dared voice such complaints or said much of anything—save Harry. The boy's hands had been in constant motion for the past hour. He had questions about every single farmhouse, animal, and blade of grass they passed. Mr. Weasley answered most of them with good natured replies. As the hours passed however, Harry's inquiries tapered off. The boy, to the silent relief of all, drifted off to sleep.

Hermione's gaze moved from her charge to the lord. "He is so happy to be going home," she commented.

Severus snorted. "To my home, you mean?"

Beside him Daniel chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes. It seemed that the pretense of not wanting the boy was no longer believable. Severus wasn't all together certain what to think of that, but he didn't argue. He could see a pointless battle in front of him.

They arrived at Spinner's End in the early afternoon. Severus had to contain the sigh of relief he felt when his home was finally in sight. If it were possible to do so, he doubted he would ever leave it again. He had spent too long in London. However, Severus' relief was short lived as he spotted a hired carriage being loaded up and Mrs. Figg standing beside it in traveling clothes. As soon as his own carriage pulled to a stop, Severus climbed out without so much as a word to his companions.

"What is the meaning of this, Mrs. Figg?" he demanded impatiently.

The matron smiled sadly. "Your wife has sacked me, I'm afraid."

Rage filled the lord's dark eyes. "My wife is here?"

Mrs. Figg nodded. "And demanding to know what is going on with Harry. I kept my silence, my lord, and it angered her enough to send me packing. Not that I would have told her anything, even had I known."

"Unpack immediately. Have the other servants see to my guests," Severus commanded curtly. "I will deal with my wife."

Severus' blood flowed like magma through his veins as he searched room by room for Victoria. He could have asked where the lady was, but it seemed best to take his time. At present, he feared he would beat the little viper within an inch of her life. How dare she stroll into his home and ask questions of him? Worse, how dare she meddle with his staff? They led separate lives—that was how they both preferred it—why the devil did she feel the need to invade now? He found her in the small parlor that lead to the garden.

Stretched out on a chaise with a book in hand, Victoria was quite unaware of just how angry her husband truly was. She lowered the book slowly and marked her page. "Why, Severus, I was beginning to worry about you," she said lightly.

"I want you gone from here within the hour, not a second more. I never want to see your face within these walls again. Disobey me and I shall see to it that you spend the remainder of your days in some god forsaken convent in Scotland," Severus seethed through his clenched teeth. His hands went numb from how tightly he held them.

Victoria merely smiled prettily. "Is that any way to greet your wife?"

Severus snarled. "Are you too thick to realize that you are not wanted here?"

"I have always known you didn't want me, Severus. How could I not when you haven't bedded me in nearly a decade? I tire of being treated like some cast off relative," she spat, finally raising her voice. "I demand to know what you have been up to! You are involved in something, I just know it."

"You demand? You demand, you little bitch? You have no right to demand anything of me. I am your husband!"

"Of course, no right. I am no more to you than a piece of property. You are a heartless, arrogant man, Severus Snape. It's no wonder that even your own mother despised you!"

For a split second, Severus wasn't exactly sure what happened next. The world around him ran white, and he was fairly certain that he had stopped breathing. His hand had moved almost on instinct. The sheer force of the slap nearly knocked Victoria from her feet. As his wife raised her finger tips to her already reddening cheek, the full weight of what Severus had just done fell upon him. Vicious as she was, Victoria was still a woman, she was still his wife. Never in his life had Severus abused someone weaker than himself before in such a reprehensible manner. Before he could say a word, Victoria turned on her heel and left. There were no hysterics nor a word of anger. She simply walked away to leave him with his guilt. Severus buried his head in his hands and sank into the chaise.

Severus sat there for a long time. By the time he moved, he had a plan.


	23. Chapter 23

Hello, to all of you who have been waiting for an update. As I have mentioned in the Guest House, I am not Lola. My name is Amaria and I have taken over her fics. Let me assure you: I WILL FINISH THIS. Maybe not with the same flair that Lola has, but I will do my best. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 23: Order of the Phoenix

Victoria didn't emerge from her room that evening. Not even the lure of guests was enough to draw her out. Severus couldn't say he blamed her. He had knocked several times on her door to no avail. Only once had he gotten any kind of answer and even then it was only Victoria's lady's maid who came out to beg the lord to leave her mistress be for the evening. Grudgingly he had agreed to do just that. It would do no good to beg his wife's forgiveness; she didn't trust him enough to believe that he was sorry. Perhaps it was the regret that weighed on him, but Severus found himself sorely tempted to barricade himself in his study with a decanter of brandy.

Instead, he sought out Harry. The boy was in the kitchen begging food from Cook. Severus had to chuckle as Harry managed to wordlessly wheedle tarts from the very same woman who had sent many a servant running from her domain with a telltale welt across their knuckles. Of course, Severus thought wryly, he would be the one to charm her. Harry had raspberry jam at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes met the lord's as his tongue darted out to lick away the offending bit. A shiver went down Severus' spine, and he fought back the urge to cross the kitchen and take the boy against the wall.

**Very good,** Harry signed enthusiastically with sticky fingers. He held out a tart for Severus expectantly.

**"Thank you,"** he replied before taking a bite of the pastry. From the corner of his eye he caught Cook staring at their hands curiously.

Harry's eyes followed Severus' gaze. **She doesn't understand, **he said astutely.

Amazed by the boy's awareness, Severus chuckled. He shook his head. **"No lesson today?"**

** Earlier, **Harry answered. He cocked his head to the side and made a face. **You teach me.**

** "I am sorry. I can't teach you signs," **Severus told him regretfully.

Harry shook his head and made the sign for "horse."

**"You want me to teach you to ride?" **Severus asked as the boy's meaning dawned on him.

Harry's eyes brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically.

Severus sighed. To be honest, he didn't have a reason not to teach Harry how to ride aside from his reluctance to be alone with the boy in a stable again. Finally, he nodded his assent, and was nearly hugged to death by the exuberant youth.

Severus ordered his most docile mare saddled, and set out to work. Teaching Harry to ride, he soon found out, was a remarkably easy task. The boy was extremely intent on his task. He watched Severus every move and mimicked it perfectly. On top of that, he had a way with animals. His actions were neither too quick, nor too hesitant. The lord leaned against the fence and watched as Harry circled the paddock. Harry was a natural born horseman. When he was mounted, he looked happier than Severus had ever seen him. Again, he marveled at the simple resilience of the boy.

Before very long, Severus was joined by Hermione. The young woman smiled at her charge, but her smile soon faded as she looked to Severus. "Is your wife going to cause problems?" she asked frankly.

"I don't quite yet know," he replied grimly. "I haven't been on very friendly terms with her for some time."

Hermione nodded. "All of this has to end sometime, you know. The deception and the hiding can't go on forever. It will eventually destroy Harry, one way or another."

Severus looked away. He didn't want to admit that the chit was right, but she was. Lies had a way of ensnaring all they touched. Even an innocent like Harry wouldn't get out unscathed. At the start of all of it, Severus had been determined to see Dursely pay, but at what cost? Was returning Harry to his rightful place going to cause more harm than good? Even at the best of his hopes, he realized that Harry would never be able to hold a place in society, nor manage his own finances. The boy was intelligent, but he had missed so many crucial years of learning. Part of him had been frozen in time at his boyhood. Dursely would exploit every weakness, would twist every truth. There was always the threat that Harry could end up locked away in Bedlam still. Could Severus really justify putting Harry through it all for revenge?

"This journey will end very soon, Miss Granger. I promise you that much," the lord vowed.

"Also, there is another matter that I wanted to bring to your attention," Hermione began. "Wherever did you find Daniel?"

"Daniel?" Severus repeated, perplexed. "Nowhere of consequence. Why should it matter?"

"It may be nothing at all, but I have noticed him watching Harry very closely with the queerest look upon his face. I questioned him about it this morning after breakfast, yet he only laughed and said that it was strange seeing someone who looked so very much like himself up close. There is just something about him that doesn't sit well," the nursemaid said with a deep frown.

"It's most likely nothing to worry about," he murmured thoughtfully. He wouldn't voice his fears to Hermione. If he did, he had little doubt the bookish Valkyrie tear the demimondaine to pieces.

Later that night, Severus observed the pair at dinner. Daniel seated himself at the far end of the table away from Harry, but whenever he thought no one was looking, his eyes would dart to Harry. Though the looks he was sending were not threatening, there was—as Hermione had noted—something unsettling about it. If Severus wasn't mistaken, he would almost say that Daniel was jealous of Harry. But why? And then suddenly, a very bizarre thought struck him. Once the meal was cleared away, Severus asked Daniel to join him in the parlor for a brandy

"Are you sorry you agreed to join in on this little misadventure?" Severus asked as he poured.

"No," Daniel replied sincerely. "I am only sorry that I was needed. Though I must say that being shot by a mad man is certainly not something I enjoyed, but I guess that it only means I played my role well."

"It's quite striking how much you look like him," Severus agreed.

The younger man took a drink of his liquor, and looked away. "Like your beloved Harry?"

"Don't play the jilted lover for my behalf," Severus scoffed. "You and I both know that isn't what this is about. Quite a coincidence, though, the two of you looking so much like Sir James."

Daniel paled visibly. "When did you figure it out?"

"Only just. I had a suspicion earlier this evening, but you confirmed it for me."

"I bear him no ill will. Please, believe that," Daniel whispered. "I've never felt any hatred or resentment for my father, nor for his legitimate heir."

Severus sneer. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I do." Daniel drained his glass and stared at the fire in the grate. "You must understand that my mother loved my father dearly until her death. Though I don't remember him, she told me that he doted on me until he died. Even once their affair ended, he provided handsomely for us—spared no expense—even though my mother had already secured a new protect or when he married Lady Lily. Sir James may not have been a true father to me even had he lived, but why should I bear him hatred when he was so much better to us than many a lord who sires bastards?"

The man sounded earnest, Severus would grant him that, but he was still not convinced. "But what of Harry? Do you deny you're jealous of him?"

"I do not," he agreed ruefully. "But I do not envy his circumstance. Had I been the heir, I would have most likely ended up the same. Besides, how foolish would I be to begrudge him the facts of his birth when I have suffered for the facts of mine? My brother cannot change it anymore than I can."

"Then what it is that you are envious of?" Severus demanded plainly. He was tiring of riddles.

Daniel smiled sadly. "You."

"Surely, you are joking."

"Not at all. How could I not wish for a lover as loyal and true as you are? After all we shared of our bodies, I only wish I could claim a tenth as much of your heart. Never before have I ever felt the slightest stirrings for one of my patrons, but the way you looked at me when you pretended I was him..." His words trailed off, and he shrugged. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Daniel held up a hand to stop him. "You love my brother enough to burn through all of Hell and Heaven for him. Please don't do him the injustice of lying about it."

Stunned, the lord merely nodded. He was not a handsome man, nor was he a particularly affectionate one. Never had he considered that someone may actually have strong feelings for him. In fact, he was certain that did Harry truly know better, the boy would find him lacking. It boggled the mind that a man who had experienced as many lovers as Daniel had would want him for more than the contents of his bank account. The idea was unnerving. Perhaps it was better not to explore the thought farther.

"Still, why didn't you tell me about your father sooner?" Severus asked instead.

"Would you have trusted me?"

"No. Put so plainly, I cannot deny that I would have questioned your motives. For good or for ill, you are involve now, though. I must wonder how far you are willing to go?" Severus pondered.

Daniel eyed him curiously. "What did you have in mind?"

"Just a vague idea, really. I will let you know as soon as I figure out the details," he answered dismissively.

Though it wasn't an outright lie, Severus did actually have more than a bit of his plan already formed. However, much of that plan hinged on Victoria. The irony that he should have to include her into all of this was not lost on him. It took days to win his wife's forgiveness—as well as many expensive trinkets—but finally he managed to do so nearly a week after arriving at Spinner's End.

Of anyone who had been told Harry's tale, Victoria showed the least amount of true feeling. She merely arched a golden brow. "So he isn't your bastard," she remarked coldly.

"Most certainly not," Severus assured her, keeping his tone carefully bland.

"So what then does this little phoenix mean to you?" Victoria asked. Her eyes lock on him as though she were a hawk and he a hare.

He had expected the question. Of course, she would ask him that. Victoria was far from stupid, and her mercenary nature would not allow her to believe that his interest was simply benevolence. Still, expecting the question did not mean wishing to answer. Severus sighed heavily.

"The phoenix, if that is what you feel the need to call him, happens to be my lover's younger brother," he half-lied. Admitting that he wanted Harry would only make him a target. He would rather place the rings upon someone more able to defend themselves from Victoria's barbs.

Victoria's eyes widened. "Your mistress? That mouse you prefer in your bed?"

Grunting his displeasure, he shook his head. "Daniel."

At first, she merely stood there and blinked at him, but then crystalline laughter filled the air. His wife looked as though she could not have been anymore pleased. "So after all of these years," she mocked, "I find that my husband is a sodomite. To think, I had almost convinced myself that I was to blame."

"You are not," he agreed wearily.

"Of course, I am not," she sniffed with new-found confidence. "Now, given this somewhat shocking and highly scandalous turn of events, I am perhaps even a bit more apt to assist you."

Severus raised a black brow. "And your price?"

Victoria's smile was almost chilling in its ferocity. "Oh, I am sure we can come to an accord."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24: The Masquerade

Severus had to admit, his wife did have a certain flair as a hostess. As he stared out at the glimmering masses in the grand ballroom of Spinner's End, he felt a small twinge of regret that he hadn't thought to include Victoria in all of this sooner. She had been quite right that the most poetic justice for the Dursleys—social climbers that they were—would be best served in public. The eyes of the elite would be upon them as their ruination began in earnest. The plan they had crafted was indeed brilliant, and Severus could claim very little of it as his own. He should have expected it from a master manipulator as skilled as his wife, but he had been too busy ignoring her to consider how she might assist him. In the end, he had begun to develop a grudging respect for his wife. Had Victoria been born a man, Severus doubted there were many who would have challenged her for fear of her retaliation.

As Victoria had planned, Spinner's End was filled to the brim with the creme-d-la-creme of London. A bit of artfully murmured gossip from the Countess of Dunhaven had brought the peerage out en masse to Richmond for Victoria's masquerade. Knights and kings, queens and concubines all adorned in rich velvets and gossamer silks floated across the marble floors. Against his will, Severus had been convinced to play the part of Hades to Victoria's Persephone, but the indignity of wearing black robes about in public would be well worth it if everything went according to plan, and with all of the players well informed of their parts, he was quite sure it would. However, the night was young and the guests of "honor" had not yet arrived. It was enough to give Severus slight pause

Leaning in to her husband's ear, Victoria whispered, "I have it on good authority that Petunia Dursley purchased a gown from Madame Renaurd's this week. One of the seamstresses there told my Sophie that Mrs. Dursley would be dressing as Cleopatra." She let out a bit of seductive laughter from behind her fan. "Smile. Pretend I've just told you something terribly naughty."

Severus did his best to feign desire as he gazed back at his wife. Though she did not stir his passions, even he noted that Victoria was at her absolute finest. In a barely there Grecian gown made of pale teal silk that hugged her curves with her hair falling in perfect golden waves about her shoulders, one could very well picture her being carried off by some amorous god.

"Out of curiosity, how did you get them to put aside their fears and come to a ball beneath my roof?" Severus asked quietly.

Victoria merely smiled. "I simply didn't give them much choice. As you know, Mr. Dursley has business dealing with the Cramptons. The Cramptons aren't exactly haute society, but they do have connections to the earl. All I had to do was mention to Mrs. Crampton at a dinner party how particularly rude I found it that the Dursleys hadn't confirmed for the ball while Narcissa was in earshot."

"And the Cramptons would not risk offending the earl through you. Thus the Durselys had no choice, unless they wanted to court the financial loss they would incur with one of the last few gentlemen willing to do business with them," Severus surmised.

"Dance with me, Severus," Victoria commanded. "It's a tad bourgeois to dance with one's own husband, but I can't have anyone thinking you are anything but besotted with me."

As Severus danced, he paid careful attention to certain guests. Sir Arthur and Lady Weasley were in attendance, as were Mr. Weasley and Hermione. More importantly, Severus had managed to convince the Earl of Dunhaven to come. Usually Lucius did not see fit to attend much outside of London and sent his wife alone to country parties, but it seemed that, like Victoria, he was not very keen on Severus' recent secretive lifestyle. The promise of an explanation was all it took to draw the earl out of his comfort zone. In turn the promise of the earl and countess' attendance was all it took to bring nearly the whole damned ton out of London. Again, he marveled at the delicate web his wife had helped him spin.

The Dursleys arrived late to the party. Aside from those in on the plan, no one paid a moment's notice to the trio—that was except for the ladies who were gawking in horror at the decided lack of good taste they showed through their ghastly attire. Severus had to restrain himself from storming across the room and demanding satisfaction from the fat toad and his even fatter son, but he managed. He sent a discreet nod toward one of his footmen, setting the trap to fall.

Victoria smiled in a vaguely feline fashion, leaning against his chest provocatively. "Well, my lord husband, it looks as though the rats have taken the bait," she murmured, rather pleased with herself.

For their part, the Dursleys seemed only moderately skittish. The lad, in fact, didn't let the looming threat to the family come in the way of his appetite and was determinedly gorging himself at the buffet table with a passion that sent the other guest scurrying away in disgust. The elders were putting on brave faces as they crossed the room greeting the scant number of people who would grant them notice. It did appear that they were somewhat reluctant to greet their hosts, however. A lapse that Severus and Victoria were of a mind to correct directly. At their approach, Vernon stiffened and Petunia took on an unbecoming shade of green.

"Why, Mr. and Mrs. Dursely, how wonderful of you to attend our little gathering," Victoria drawled icily. Those in attendance around them might not have openly started eavesdropping, but most did have an ear turned ever so slightly toward the meeting.

"Your invitation was so very kind," Petunia managed to murmur gracelessly.

"Kindness had very little to do with it, I'm afraid," Severus replied honestly. "I had very much hoped to introduce you to someone."

Vernon's eyes narrowed. "What games are you playing, Lord Snape?"

"Tsk, tsk, is that any way to speak to your betters Mr. Dursely?" Victoria admonished, her tone just loud enough for the gossips to hear.

"My lady, if you are implying that your husband is anything other than a conniving snake, you are sadly mistaken," Dursley bristled as his neck began to turn purple.

Victoria blinked rapidly, looking much as though she had just been dealt a blow rather than having dealt one. By now, there was much twittering going on behind the many ladies' fans around the room. The gentlemen were only slightly less discreetly as the coughed covering many speculations. Every eye was upon them. The countess even went as far as to peer across the room at them with her lorgnettes, and the earl was staring at the pair with what could politely be called overt distaste. Not even ten minutes after their arrival, and they had already secured a blinding fall from social graces.

"Were you worth my notice, Dursely, I would call you out this instant. I have no doubt there are at least a dozen men in attendance tonight who would gladly offer themselves as my second," he sneered.

"I would," a voice called out from among the masses.

Severus smiled victoriously as a slender, raven haired, young man parted the crowds. Wearing finely tailored black clothing and only a half mask in deference to the party, he stood out amongst the nobles who were now guessing at his identity. With glee, Severus made sure they did not have to guess much longer. "Ah, Mr. Potter," he announced, "how good of you to come."

A collective gasp sounded in the room before whispers erupted like a great wave crashing upon the rocks. Petunia looked as though she may faint.

"Potter," Dursley breathed in shock. "No, it can't be!"

The man in question removed his mask with a flourish. "Come now, Uncle Vernon, you didn't think you could squander my inheritance without any comeuppance at all, did you?"

"This is an outrage!" the great walrus blustered. "You are not, Harry Potter. Harry Potter is dead and buried!"

"Not quite as dead as you hoped, you mean," the young man quipped. He turned to the party goers as though he were artfully addressing an audience. "My uncle had me imprisioned for many years in his home until I escaped with the help of Lord Snape and his gracious wife. Were it not for their kindness, I would be a shadow of the man you see before you. I am forever in their debt."

Harry paused, and then nodded to his relatives. "My family,however, has lied and cheated their way to monies that were never intended to be theirs. In fact, I have reason to believe—though I cannot prove such—that Mr. Dursely even went as far as to have my parents murdered."

"LIES!" Vernon cried out in a fit of rage. "HE LIES! There is no proof of any of this. Harry lies in his grave. This man is an imposter!"

"Am I? Can anyone deny that I am the very image of my father?" he asked the crowd.

Suddenly, a wizened old woman moved forward from the onlookers. Leaning heavily on a jeweled cane and wearing her hair in the powdered fashion of a bygone era, Lady Bathilda Bagshot moved toward Harry.

"Come closer, boy," she commanded in a voice that crackled with age. The young man did as she asked and allowed himself to be inspected quite closely by the old woman. Finally, she patted his hand. "Why, Harry, you always did have your father's beautiful brown eyes!"

With Lady Bathilda's backing, the crowd became more hostile. Outraged voices began to cry out for justice. Several young bucks, already quite in their cups, even went as far as to suggest hanging. Petunia took the opportunity to faint into her son's arms while her husband went deathly white.

"You did this," Dursely muttered in shock. "You've ruined me."

Severus chuckled. "No, Dursely, you've ruined yourself."


End file.
